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WESTMINSTER  SERMONS 


WESTMINSTER  SERMONS 


Sermons  on  Special  €>ccagtong 


PREACHED  IN  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY 


BY 

/ 

ARTHUR  PENRHYN  STANLEY,  D.D. 

LATE  DEAN  OF  WESTMINSTER 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1882 


FRANKLIN  PRESS  : 
RAND,  AVERY,  AND  COMPANY, 
117  FRANKLIN  STREET, 
BOSTON. 


Publishers'  Note. 


These  Sermons  have  been  collected  and  are  now 
published  in  accordance  with  the  wish  of  Dean  Stanley. 
They  are  given  as  delivered,  with  the  correction  of 
obvious  errors.  Some  of  them  have  been  already 
printed  in  periodicals  and  separately. 

Easter,  1882. 


CONTENTS. 


ON  THE  ABBEY. 

PAGE 

A  Reasonable,  Holy,  and  Living  Sacrifice.    (On  the 

Dean's  Installation)         .....  1 

Dedication  of  Westminster  Abbey.    (The  800th  Anni- 
versary) .  .  .  .  .  18 

Tiie  Coronation  of  William  the  Conqueror,  and  its 

Consequences     .         .         .         .         .  .39 

The  Altar  of  Westminster  Abbey  ...  50 

The  Religious  Aspect  of  Sculpture     .         .  .66 


ON  ROYAL  AND  NATIONAL  EVENTS. 

A  Threefold  Call  .         .         .         .         .  .75 

The  National  Thanksgiving:  — 

i.    death  and  life  .....  83 

II.    the  trumpet  of  patmos      .          .          .  .  92 

hi.    the  day  of  thanksgiving       .         .         .  102 

England  and  India  ......  114 

The  Return  of  the  Travelleb        .         .         .  128 

vil 


viii 


CONTENTS. 


FUNERAL  SERMONS. 

PAGE 

Lord  Palmerston     ......  138 

Charles  Dickens           .....  149 

Science  and  Religion.    (Sir  John  Herschel)       .         .  162 

The  Religious  Aspect  of  History.    (Mr.  Grote)    .  179 

Frederick  Denison  Maurice         ....  191 

The  Mission  of  the  Traveller.    (Dr.  Livingstone)  197 

Charles  Kingsley    ......  214 

The  Religious  Aspect  of  Geology.    (Sir  Charles  Lyell)  230 

The  Religious  Use  of  Wisdom.    (Bishop  Thirlwall)  246 

The  Religious  Aspect  of  Gothic  Architecture.  (Sir 

Gilbert  Scott)       .  .  .         .          .  .260 

The  Late  Princess  Alice       ....  273 

An  Indian  Statesman.    (Lord  Lawrence) .          .          .  280 

Thomas  Carlyle  ......  296 

The  Days  of  Old.    (Rev.  Lord  John  Thynne)     .         .  307 

The  Earl  of  Beaconsfield     ....  319 

MISCELLANEOUS  SUBJECTS. 

Christian  Fraternity        .....  330 

Diversity  in  Unity       .....  340 

» 

The  Close  of  the  Mission  Services  on  St.  Andrew's 

Day,  1879    356 

Tns  Distress  of  Paris  .....  363 


CONTENTS.  IX 

PAG  IS 

The  Christian  Rule  of  Speech.    (American  Independ- 
ence)        .......  374 

The  Ceusade  of  Charity        ....  384 

The  Greek  Massacre         .....  399 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING 
SACRIFICE. 

January  10,  1864,  the  day  following  the  Dean's  Installation.1 

/  beseech  you  therefore,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  pre- 
sent your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God,  which  is 
your  reasonable  service.  —  Romans  xii.  1. 

When  Christianity  dethroned  the  previous  religions  of 
the  world,  it  immediately  did  that  which  proved  its  sov- 
ereign right  to  the  position  which  it  claimed.  It  took 
the  names,  the  institutions,  the  ideas  which  it  found, 
and  gave  them  a  new  and  better  meaning;  or  even  if  it 
destroyed  them,  it  immediately  planted  a  correspond- 
ing idea  or  institution  in  their  place.  It  "  took  away  " 
that  which  was  old  and  ready  to  vanish,  in  order  that 
it  might  "establish"  that  which  will  endure  for  ever 
and  ever. 

Of  a  thousand  instances  which  might  be  given  of  this 
upward,  soaring  tendency,  this  transfiguration  of  earthly 
things  by  a  new  and  heavenly  light,  none  is  more  re- 
markable than  its  treatment  of  Sacrifice.  Sacrifice,  so 
universal  in  the  old  religions,  both  Jewish  and  Pagan, 
has  in  its  ancient  sense  been  rejected  by  Christianity 
altogether.  There  is  now  no  Christian  sect  or  church 
where  God  is  worshipped  by  the  slaughter  of  dumb 

1  This  sermon  has  been  published  by  the  author  as  a  first  step  towards 
the  fulfilment  of  the  prayer  offered  up  in  the  Abbey  on  the  day  of  his 
installation,  "that  those  things  which  he  hath  promised,  and  which 
his  duty  requires,  he  may  faithfully  perform,  to  the  praise  and  glory  of 
the  name  of  God,  and  the  enlargement  of  His  Church." 

1 


2        A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 

animals  or  of  human  victims.  But  in  a  higher  sense 
Christianity  is,  above  all  other  religions  ever  known,  a 
Religion  of  Sacrifice.  It  is  a  Religion  founded  on  the 
greatest  of  all  sacrifices,  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Incarna- 
tion,1 culminating  in  the  Sacrifice  on  Calvary.2  It  is  a 
religion  of  which  the  whole  continuance  in  the  world 
depends  on  continual  sacrifice  —  the  sacrifice  (such  is 
the  new  meaning  which  the  New  Testament  has  poured 
into  the  old  word)  of  the  heart  and  mind  in  grateful 
praise  and  thanksgiving,3  the  sacrifice  of  good  deeds,4 
and  broken  hearts  and  contrite  spirits,5  the  sacrifice  of 
the  whole  man  in  the  dedication  of  himself  to  God.6 

The  very  word  as  we  use  it  in  common  parlance  has 
risen  into  this  higher  and  nobler  signification ;  the 
earthly,  Levitical,  outward  element  has  melted  away. 
The  Prophetical,  spiritual  element,  so  strange  and  new 
in  the  50th  and  51st  Psalms,  when  David  contrasted  the 
flesh  of  bulls  and  the  blood  of  goats  with  the  offering 
of  a  right  conversation  and  the  sacrifice  of  a  troubled 
spirit,"  became  fixed  by  the  Apostle  St.  Paul  in  the 
permanent  forms  of  Christian  worship,  in  the  ordinary 
language  of  Christendom. 

"  I  beseech  you,"  —  so  he  speaks  to  us  in  the  Epistle  of 
this  morning,  —  "  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye  present 
your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice,  holy,  acceptable  unto  God, 
which  is  your  reasonable  service."  That  is  to  say,  "I 
beseech  you,  by  all  that  God  has  done  for  you  in  crea- 
tion and  in  redemption,  in  nature  and  in  grace,  that 
ye  offer  to  Him  your  own  bodies,  not  the  bodies  of  any 
other  victims  or  offerings,  but  your  own,  your  own 
beings,  your  own  human  forms ;  a  living  sacrifice  —  not 

1  John  xvii.  19  ;  Eph.  v.  2  ;  Heb.  x.  7,  8, 10  ;  Rom.  viii.  32  ;  2  Cor.  v.  21. 

2  Heb.  ix.  28,  xiii.  12.  3  Heb.  xiii.  15  ;  Rom.  xv.  1G. 
*  Heb.  xiii.  16  ;  Ps.  I.  23.  5  Ps.  li.  17. 

6  Ps.  1.  23  ;  1  Pet.  ii.  5  ;  Rom.  xii.  1 ;  Phil.  ii.  17.      "  Ps.  1, 13,  li.  16, 17. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  3 

dead  victims,  falling  lifeless  on  the  ground  under  the 
sacrificer's  flashing  knife,  but  instinct  with  life  and 
energy;  holy  and  acceptable  unto  God  —  not  less  holy 
and  acceptable  because  it  is  a  moral  and  spiritual,  and 
not  a  ceremonial  holiness ;  your  reasonable  service  —  a 
worship,  a  service,  not  of  irrational  creatures,  of  bulls 
and  goats,  of  flowers  and  fruits,  but  of  reasonable 
human  beings,  worthy  of  the  God  who  planted  reason 
and  conscience  within  us. 

This  is  the  true  Christian  sacrifice  which  should  per- 
vade all  our  worship  and  all  our  life,  the  breathing 
incense  of  all  our  prayers,  all  our  actions.  It  is  no 
metaphor,  no  figure  of  speech.  It  is  the  substance,  the 
reality,  which  has  taken  the  place  of  those  older  sacri- 
fices which  were  but  types  and  shadows  of  the  true 
Sacrifice,  as  in  the  case  of  our  Divine  Redeemer,  so,  in 
a  lower  sense,  in  the  case  of  His  servants. 

Let  us  trace  the  full  meaning  of  these  words. 

There  have  been  moments  in  the  life  of  many  a 
Christian  man  when  this  sacrificial  act  must  have  been 
true  to  the  very  letter.  In  the  early  ages  of  persecu- 
tion, when  Christians  gave  up  their  bodies  to  the  sword, 
the  stake,  the  cross,  the  wild  beasts,  for  the  sake  of 
Christ,  they  must  have  felt  that  they  were  indeed  pre- 
senting themselves  to  be  "  holy,  reasonable,  and  living  " 
victims  in  the  cause  of  God  and  of  truth.  Soldiers,  too, 
on  the  eve  of  some  great  battle,  must,  if  they  reasoned 
at  all,  have  felt  that  they  were  sacrificing  themselves 
in  the  literal  sense  of  the  Apostle's  words.  On  the  day 
when  onr  armies  landed  on  the  shores  of  the  Crimea, 
this  very  chapter  was  read  to  one  of  the  advancing 
troops  by  one  of  the  officers  in  command ;  and  we  and 
they  may  have  truly  felt  how  that  was  indeed  a  living 
sacrifice,  a  sacrifice  of  body,  life,  and  limb,  of  the  best 
blood  of  England's  sons ;  holy,  because  it  was  made  at 


4        A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 

the  call  of  duty ;  reasonable,  because  it  was  not  the 
devotion  of  brute  courage  or  wild  superstition,  but  of 
calm,  loyal,  reasoning  obedience. 

But  not  only  in  these  greater  occasions,  but  in  the 
less  exciting  though  still  eventful  days  of  our  ordinary 
lives,  we  can  enter  into  every  word  of  the  Apostle's 
appeal.  We  many  of  us  feel  its  whole  meaning,  when 
in  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  in  that  remark- 
able self-dedication  which  once  formed  the  very  central 
portion  of  the  consecration  prayer,1  and  which  still 
forms  the  culminating  point  of  the  whole  service,  we 
use  these  very  words,  and  "present  to  God  ourselves,  our 
souls  and  bodies,  to  be  a  reasonable,  holy,  and  lively  sac- 
rifice to  Him."  We  feel  it  with  an  especial  force  in  the 
beginning  of  the  new  year,  when  new  hopes  and  new 
resolutions  rise  within  us,  and  when  we  determine,  it 
may  be  with  many  an  effort  and  many  a  pang,  to  enter 
on  a  new  course  of  life,  and,  like  the  early  Christians, 
bind  ourselves  as  by  a  sacramental  oath  or  pledge  to 
the  renewed  service  of  our  Heavenly  Master.  We  feel 
it  still  more,  if  there  be  any  amongst  us  who  are  enter- 
ing not  only  on  a  new  }*ear,  but  on  a  new  crisis,  a  new 
career,  a  new  position,  which  to  be  worthily  fulfilled 
requires,  in  the  most  literal  sense,  the  sacrifice  of  all 
our  energies  to  this  one  purpose.  And  if,  as  in  the  case 
of  him  who  now  addresses  you,  this  entrance  on  his 
new  career,  this  admission  to  his  new  office  is  expressed 
in  solemn  words,  handed  down  from  former  times,  and 
solemnly  spoken  within  these  sacred  walls,  how  natu- 
rally does  the  text  of  this  day  convey  the  feelings  with 
which  he  would  now  appear  for  the  first  time  before 
this  congregation  to  devote  himself  to  the  work  to 
which  he  has  been  called !  Antique  and  peculiar  as 
those  words  may  be,  fresh  from  the  fiery  struggles  of 

1  First  Liturgy  of  King  Edwaid  VI. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.    ,  5 

the  age  of  our  Royal  Foundress,  yet  they  rise  by  the 
force  and  elevation  of  their  expressions  so  far  beyond 
the  occasion  which  gave  them  birth,  and  so  singularly 
adtvpt  themselves  to  the  sacrificial  and  sacramental 
pledge  in  which  all  Christians  are  invited  by  the  Apos- 
tle and  by  our  own  Church  to  join,  that  I  may  well 
unite  both  forms  together,  and  combine  for  your  in- 
struction and  my  own  the  universal  truth  and  the  par- 
ticular case,  the  Apostolic  injunction  and  the  Royal 
oath,  by  which  you  as  Christian  people,  I  as  a  Christian 
teacher,  present  ourselves  on  this  day  as  a  reasonable, 
holy,  and  living  sacrifice  to  our  All-wise  and  All-mer- 
ciful Father  —  you,  on  the  new  year,  which  lies  before 
you  filled  with  its  unknown  trials,  pleasures,  and  duties; 
I,  on  the  new  office  which,  in  the  sight  of  God,  demands 
the  same  sacrifice  and  requires  the  same  encourage- 
ment that  belongs  to  every  office  and  ministry  in  the 
Christian  Church  everywhere. 

Let  us,  then,  take  the  characteristics  of  this  sacrifice 
as  they  are  expressed  by  the  Apostle,  as  they  are  put 
forth  by  the  Church  of  England  in  its  most  solemn 
Service,  as*  they  fall  in  with  the  peculiar  claims  of  this 
great  Collegiate  Church. 

Reasonable  —  holy  —  living. 

I.  First,  "A  reasonable  sacrifice."  That  is  to  say,  a 
sacrifice,  a  dedication,  not  of  mere  impulse,  fancy,  affec- 
tion, but  of  our  reason,  our  understanding,  our  intellect ; 
a  sacrifice  in  which  our  reason  takes  full  part,  in  which 
our  understandings  go  along  with  our  spirits,  in  which 
our  minds  go  along  with  our  hearts.  How  is  this  to  be 
done?  The  sacrifice  of  our  reason,  the  reasonable  ser- 
vice, which  the  God  of  reason  and  of  truth  requires 
from  us  is,  first  and  foremost,  the  sacrifice  to  Truth. 
Not  to  authority,  not  to  freedom,  not  to  popularity,  not 
to  fear,  but  to  Truth. 


6        A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 

It  is,  no  doubt,  a  hard  sacrifice  which  is  thus  required. 
Long  inveterate  custom,  cherished  phrases  bound  up 
with  some  of  our  best  affections,  the  indolent  respect  of 
persons  or  acquiescence  in  common  usage,  these  are 
what  Truth  again  and  again  compels  us  to  surrender. 
But  this  is  precisely  the  sacrifice  which  God  demands 
from  us  at  His  altar,  this  is  precisely  the  sacrifice  which 
in  our  solemn  act  of  self-dedication  we  declare  that  we 
are  ready  to  offer.  Vera  consuetis  semper  antehabiturum 
—  that  "  we  will  always  prefer  Truth  to  Custom,"  that 
we  will  give  to  Truth  not  the  second  or  the  third,  but 
the  first  place ;  that  antiquity,  novelty,  prejudice,  fash- 
ion, must  give  way  before  the  claims  of  Truth  wherever 
it  be  found.  Dear,  no  doubt,  is  tradition ;  dear  is  the 
long  familiar  recollection ;  dear  and  most  sacred  in  its 
own  place  and  measure  is  venerable  antiquity  on  the 
one  hand  or  bold  originality  on  the  other;  but  dearer 
than  any  of  these  things,  dearer  and  higher  in  human 
things,  dearer  and  higher  yet  in  things  divine,  is  Truth, 
the  duty  of  seeking  and  speaking  the  Truth  in  love,  in 
the  unshaken  faith  that  Truth  is  great  and  will  in  the 
end  prevail.  And  may  He,  whose  name  is  Truth,  be 
with  our  humblest  efforts  to  teach  the  truth,  and  honor 
the  truth,  here  and  everywhere ! 

And  close  upon  this  pledge,  in  Christian  teaching, 
there  follows  another  like  unto  it.  We  declare  that 
"  we  will  always  prefer  the  written  to  the  unwritten," 
scripta  non  scriptis;  that  "the  Word  of  God,"  as  it  ap- 
pears in  the  Bible,  is  above  all  human  opinions  what- 
soever. This,  too,  is  a  sacrifice  often  hard  to  make.  To 
search  the  Scriptures  thoroughly,  to  resign  ourselves 
to  their  real  original  meaning,  to  make  out  the  true 
sense  of  Prophet,  Psalmist,  and  Apostle,  and  not  force 
our  opinions  upon  them,  this  is  a  task  which  may  in- 
volve many  a  struggle  hard  to  flesh  and  blood,  many  a 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  7 

sacrifice  of  time  and  thought,  and  ease,  unknown  to 
those  who  tread  in  the  smoother  walks  of  literature,  or 
science,  or  practical  life.  But  it  is  a  sacrifice  to  which 
some  at  least  in  every  generation  are  called ;  and  the 
object  is  one  which  is  worth  the  sacrifice  to  every  Chris- 
tian man,  to  every  Christian  teacher,  who  cares  for  the 
progress  of  the  human  race,  who  cares  for  the  welfare 
of  Christendom. 

The  Bible.  Doubtless  it  contains  many  "things  hard 
to  be  understood,"  many  things  "  which  the  unlearned 
and  unstable  may  wrest  to  their  own  destruction."  But 
take  it  with  all  its  difficulties  —  take  it  with  all  the  im- 
perfections of  the  human  agencies  by  which  it  has  come 
down  to  us,  and  it  is  still  true  that  at  least  in  the 
great  field  of  Theology  no  more  reasonable  service  can 
be  offered  up  by  man  to  God  in  this  generation  than 
the  study  of  the  Scriptures.  "  Thy  word  is  tried  to  the  > 
uttermost,"  tried  by  the  honest  investigations  of  science, 
tried  by  the  undue  claims  made  upon  it,  tried  by  the 
misunderstanding  of  its  enemies,  tried  by  the  misunder- 
standing and  exaggeration  of  its  friends;  and  yet,  in 
spite  of  all,  "  Thy  servant  loveth  it,"  1  because  he  knows 
that  there  is  nothing  else  like  it  in  the  world,  nothing 
else  which  will  so  well  repay  all  the  trouble,  anxiety, 
and  misapprehension  which  its  study  involves.  Its 
value  has  increased,  not  diminished,  with  the  lapse  of 
ages.  It  is  even  more  important  than  in  former  times 
to  be  able  to  go  back  from  modern  controversies  to  the 
fountain  of  our  faith,  pure  and  undefiled,  in  the  hills 
from  which  it  springs.  It  is  still  the  Book  of  books, 
not  to  one  nation  only  but  to  all  mankind.  It  is  still 
the  guide  both  of  the  learned  and  of  the  ignorant. 
Through  its  vast  variety  of  style  and  character,  light 
and  shade,  parable  and  history,  song  and  prose,  sorrow- 

1  Ps.  cxix.  140. 


8        A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 


ful  and  joyful,  profound  and  simple,  it  is  more  than 
ever  the  best  means  of  bringing  together  the  educated, 
the  half-educated,  the  uneducated ;  the  inquirer,  the 
waverer,  the  believer,  the  misbeliever ;  if  not  in  one 
communion  of  discipline  and  worship,  at  least  in  one 
communion  of  thought  and  feeling.  It  is  still  "the 
witness  in  all  ages  of  the  higher  things  in  the  heart  of 
man,  the  inspired  source  of  truth,  the  way  to  the  better 
life."  It  contains  treasures  of  wisdom,  of  justice,  of 
tenderness,  of  toleration,  of  freedom,  which  have  never 
yet  been  exhausted.  It  stands  on  a  height  above  all 
the  human  speculations  which  have  gathered  round  it. 
Ancient  Creeds,  modern  Confessions  of  Theology,  have 
their  own  place  and  value,  but  in  form,  in  substance,  in 
spirit,  they  are  immeasurably  below  the  Bible  ;  the}'  are 
not  to  be  named  for  a  moment  in  comparison  of  the  liv- 
ing voice  cf  God,  as  it  speaks  to  us  through  the  living 
acts  and  utterances  of  patriarch  and  king,  lawgiver  and 
judge,  priest  and  soldier,  psalmist  and  prophet,  through 
all  the  manifold  "  sundry  times,"  through  all  the  infi- 
nitely "  divers  manners "  in  which  He  inspired  the 
teachers  of  His  chosen  people,  until  "in  these  last 
days  He  has  spoken  to  us  "  once  for  all  "  in  "  the  Per- 
son of  Jesus  Christ  "  His  Son."  To  bring  out  the  true 
meaning  of  each  part  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures  in  its 
due  proportions  ;  to  interpret  the  Bible,  not  by  our  own 
fancies  concerning  it,  but  by  what  it  says  of  itself; 
"  rightly  to  divide  the  word  of  truth  "  by  distinguishing 
between  the  essential  and  the  unessential,  between  the 
eternal  and  the  temporal,  between  the  letter  and  the 
spirit ;  to  strive  to  put  an  end  (if  I  may  use  the  words 
of  one  of  my  most  distinguished  predecessors)  to  "  the 
unnatural  war  between  faith  and  reason,  between  hu- 
man science  and  Divine ; " 1  to  confute  the  manifold 

1  Horslcy's  Sermons,  vol.  iii.  p.  175. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  9 

and  opposite  errors  which  arise  contrary  to  the  plain, 
simple,  Divine  wisdom  of  the  Bible ;  to  confute  them 
by  every  means  in  our  power,  but  above  all  by  the 
surest  of  all  means,  by  candor,  by  moderation,  by 
patient  and  comprehensive  study,  always  making  the 
best  and  not  the  worst  of  those  who  oppose  us,  con- 
stantly seeing  truth  even  in  the  midst  of  error,  making 
the  best  refutation  of  error,  not  by  attacking  what  is 
false,  but  by  fully  stating  what  is  true  —  this  is  the 
noble  sacrifice,  this  is  the  reasonable  service  which  the 
Christian  teacher  in  the  Church  of  England,  and  in  this 
great  Abbey,  is  pledged  to  offer  to  Him  who  seeks  for 
His  true  worshippers  those  who  worship  Him  in  spirit 
and  in  truth. 

II.  Secondly,  the  sacrifice  must  be  holy.  Ah !  to 
what  a  world  beyond  ourselves  does  this  word  carry  us ! 
how  near  to  the  Great  White  Throne !  how  far  away 
from  ourselves,  and  this  miserable,  selfish,  sinful  world ! 
How  easy  to  feel  its  meaning,  how  difficult  to  explain 
it !  how  far  more  difficult  to  apply  it !  A  life,  a  worship, 
separate,  consecrated  from  the  low.  envious,  uncharita- 
ble, narrow,  impure  influences  which  dry  up  our  better 
thoughts ;  a  life  set  on  higher  aims,  a  life  which  has 
within  it  something  at  least  which  recalls  the  world  to 
the  sense  of  the  saintly,  the  heroic,  the  heavenly,  the  di- 
vine !  Where  shall  this  holiness  be  sought?  How  shall 
we  figure  it  to  ourselves?  There  are  many  answers 
which  might  be  given.  But  I  fall  back  on  two  which 
are  furnished  in  our  own  solemn  pledge,  that  we  "  will 
draw  our  rule  of  life  from  the  Word  of  God,"  and  that 
"we  will  embrace  with  our  whole  souls  the  true  religion 
of  Christ."  Weigh  well  the  force  of  both  these  expres- 
sions. They  are  the  same  in  meaning  as  those  in  which 
the  whole  aim  of  religious  teaching  has  been  well  summed 
up —  "  To  live  in  the  spirit  of  the  Bible,  and  to  love  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ." 


10      A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 

"  The  rule  of  life  to  be  drawn  from  the  Scriptures." 
I  have  spoken  of  the  Bible  as  the  fountain  and  the 
bulwark  of  Truth.  Let  me  now  speak  of  it  as  the  foun- 
tain and  the  bulwark  of  Holiness.  There  is  indeed  a 
holiness  in  the  Bible  which  speaks  for  itself.  The  spirit 
which  breathes  through  it  is  indeed  the  spirit  of  the 
saints,  the  spirit  of  heroes,  because  it  is  the  spirit  of  all 
holiness  and  of  all  goodness.  To  live  in  the  spirit  of  the 
Bible,  to  live  in  that  exalted  atmosphere  which  nursed 
the  faith  of  Abraham,  and  the  unselfishness  of  Moses, 
and  the  courage  of  Joshua,  and  the  devotion  of  David, 
and  the  hope  of  Isaiah,  and  the  energy  of  Paul,  and  the 
love  of  John  —  this  is  better  than  any  rule  however 
careful,  than  any  form  however  exact,  which  scholastic 
ingenuity  or  ascetic  piety  has  ever  devised. 

Take  even  a  single  Psalm.  Read  over  in  your  house- 
hold the  15th  or  the  101st  Psalm ;  read  over  to  yourselves 
the  51st,  which  was  sung  in  this  morning's  service.  Or 
take  even  a  single  text  —  a  single  verse  from  the  13th 
chapter  of  the  1st  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians,  or  from  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount ;  act  upon  it  throughout  a  single 
week,  make  it  the  rule  of  a  single  family ;  what  a  holy 
sacrifice,  salted  with  the  salt  of  God's  special  grace, 
would  then  be  offered  up !  What  a  difference  would  it 
make  in  the  happiness,  the  usefulness,  the  dignity,  the 
greatness  of  the  whole  neighborhood,  of  the  whole  insti- 
tution, of  which  we  form  a  part ! 

And  yet  further,  if  we  ascend  from  the  Bible  to  Him 
of  whom  the  Bible  speaks,  what  a  lifting  up  of  our 
hearts  above  the  toil,  and  dust,  and  turmoil,  and  con- 
troversies, and  doubts  of  the  world,  if  we  could  with  a 
full  sense,  or  any  thing  like  a  full  sense  of  the  meaning 
of  those  majestic  words,  declare  "that  we  embraced  with 
our  whole  souls  the  true  religion  of  Christ!'"  Of  Christ, 
and  of  no  one  else ;  the  religion,  not  even  of  His  best- 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  11 

beloved  servants,  or  of  His  greatest  and  wisest  and  old- 
est Churches,  but  of  Himself;  the  religion  of  Christ,  as 
Pie  Himself  has  taught  it  to  us,  and  showed  it  to  us,  in 
the  Four  Gospels  —  in  His  words,  in  His  works,  in  His 
mind,  in  His  Spirit,  in  Himself.  Do  not  disparage  the 
teaching  of  the  Apostles :  it  is  full  of  instruction  for  all 
future  times.  Do  not  disparage  the  teaching  of  any  of 
the  Churches  which  they  founded  :  each  Church  in  each 
age  has  rendered  its  own  peculiar  service  to  the  cause 
of  goodness.  But  even  the  collective  wisdom  of  all 
the  Churches  has  not  in  religious  matters  reached  up 
to  the  wisdom  of  the  Apostles,  who  lived  in  the  presence 
and  in  the  spirit  of  Christ ;  and  even  the  Apostles  point 
not  to  themselves,  but  to  Him,  as  the  Founder  of  their 
faith,  as  the  Source  of  their  spiritual  life.  Ask  spiritual 
counsel,  O  my  brethren,  from  all  these  quarters,  but  ask 
it  especially  from  Him  who,  if  our  belief  concerning 
Him  be  true  in  any  degree,  must  be  above  every  other 
religious  teacher  that  has  ever  appeared  on  the  earth. 
Ask,  in  every  perplexity,  in  every  dispute  that  crosses 
our  religious  life,  ask  what  He  would  have  said,  what 
He  would  have  done.  Ask  not  of  Him  questions  of 
times  or  seasons,  or  questions  of  this  world's  knowledge 
and  power,  which  he  refuses  to  answer ;  but  ask  of  Him 
the  questions  how  we  are  to  please  God,  how  we  are  to 
serve  our  brethren,  how  we  are  to  deal  with  sin,  how  we 
are  to  deal  with  error,  how  we  are  to  deal  with  our 
opponents,  how  we  are  to  deal  with  our  own  follies,  and 
passions,  and  sins ;  and  assuredly  we  shall  receive  an 
answer,  not  of  this  world,  nor  of  this  age,  nor  of  the  will 
of  man,  nor  of  days  long  past,  nor  of  any  sect  or  party 
or  church,  but  the  answer  of  the  Eternal  Mind  of  God 
Himself,  the  answer  of  the  Ancient  of  Days,  the  same 
yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever. 

In  the  true,  original,  catholic,  evangelical  Religion  of 


12      A  SEASONABLE,  IIOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 


Jesus  Christ,  and  in  this  alone,  all  the  divided  religions 
of  Christendom  find  their  union,  their  repose,  their 
support.  Find  out  what  He  was  and  what  He  is  — 
what  He  is  and  what  He  is  not.  Find  out  His  mind, 
His  character,  His  will ;  and  in  His  greatness  we  shall 
rise  above  our  littlenesses,  in  His  strength  we  shall  lose 
our  weakness,  in  His  peace  we  shall  forget  our  dis- 
cords. 

O  that  we  might  be  strengthened,  every  one  of  us, 
to  make  this  holiest  of  all  sacrifices  to  the  holiest  and 
greatest  of  all  causes !  O  that  Christendom  might  be 
drawn  more  and  more,  year  by  year,  to  its  true  Lord 
and  Master !  O  that  we  might  rise,  ever  so  faintly,  into 
that  loftiest  of  all  the  aspirations  of  the  sweetest  psalmist 
of  England  and  the  English  Church :  — 

Weary  of  all  this  wordy  strife, 
These  notions,  forms,  and  modes  and  names, 

To  Thee,  the  Way,  the  Truth,  the  Life, 
Whose  love  my  simple  heart  inflames  — 

Divinely  taught,  at  last  I  fly 

With  Thee  and  Thine  to  live  and  die ! 1 

III.  "  To  live  or  die  !  "  This  brings  me  to  the  last 
characteristic  cf  the  Christian  sacrifice  — not  only  "rea- 
sonable," and  "  holy,"  but  "  living."  There  have  been 
those  who  have  offered  to  God  a  reasonable  and  a  holy 
sacrifice,  but  a  dead  sacrifice  —  a  sacrifice  cold,  hard, 
philosophic,  reasonable,  without  warmth,  without  sym- 
pathy, without  action ;  a  sacrifice  holy,  devoted,  but 
shut  up  within  books,  shut  up  within  walls,  the  dry 
bones  of  religion  without  its  animating  spirit,  the  imi- 
tation of  Christ  in  thought  and  feeling,  not  in  life  and 
action.  Such  sacrifices  may  be  in  their  measure  accept- 
able to  Him  who  knows  our  manifold  weaknesses.  But 

1  Charles  Wesley,  Hymn  on  Catholic  Love. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  13 


they  are  not  the  highest  and  best  sacrifices,  they  are 
not  those  in  which  He  most  delights.  No,  our  sacrifices 
must  not  be  like  the  dead  carcases  of  the  ancient  vic- 
tims, thrown  away  to  perish  or  to  be  burned ;  they 
must  be  living,  moving,  walking,  speaking,  acting  in 
the  face  of  day ;  living,  vigorous,  active  bodies,  living, 
cheerful,  energetic  souls.  We  know  what  we  mean  by 
saying  that  a  child  or  a  man  is  "full  of  life."  That  is 
(as  long  as  God  grants  us  health,  and  strength,  and 
spirits)  what  our  sacrifice  of  ourselves  should  be  — 
"  full  of  life."  Not  desponding,  sickly,  pining,  morbid, 
morose ;  not  gloomy,  chilling,  cold,  forbidding ;  not 
languid,  lazy,  indolent,  inactive ;  but  full  of  life,  and 
warmth,  and  energy  ;  cheerful  and  making  others  cheer- 
ful, gay  and  making  others  gay,  happy  and  making 
others  happy,  contented  and  making  others  contented, 
at  ease  and  putting  others  at  ease,  active  and  making 
others  active,  doing  good  and  making  others  do  good, 
by  our  living,  lively,  lifelike,  vivid  vitality  —  filling 
every  corner  of  our  own  souls  and  bodies,  filling  every 
corner  of  the  circle  and  the  institution  in  which  we 
move,  with  the  fresh  life-blood  of  a  warm,  genial, 
kindly,  Christian  heart.  Doubtless  this,  too,  requires 
a  sacrifice ;  it  requires  us  to  give  up  our  own  comfort, 
our  own  ease,  our  own  firesides,  our  own  dear  solitude, 
our  own  favorite  absorbing  pursuits,  our  shyness,  our 
reserve,  our  pride,  our  selfishness.  But  for  this,  too, 
there  is  a  cause,  there  is  a  reward.  That  solemn  pledge 
of  duty  which  calls  us  to  our  reasonable  and  to  our  holy 
sacrifice,  calls  us  also  to  the  living  active  service  of  our 
neighbors,  of  our  Church,  of  our  country,  to  the  living 
faithful  service  of  the  great  institution  of  which  so 
many  of  us  in  this  place  are  members.  To  protect  its 
interests,  to  guard  its  privileges,  to  extend  its  useful- 
ness, is  the  vow  which  needs,  or  ought  to  need,  no  out- 


14      A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 


ward  words  to  express  it  in  any  who  is  summoned  to 
fill  any  place,  from  the  humblest  to  the  highest,  in  this 
sacred  building.  To  breathe  a  soul  even  into  these 
dead  stones,  to  draw  out  the  marvellous  tale  which  lies 
imprisoned  within  each  wall,  and  tower,  and  arch,  and 
relic  of  this  most  august  of  English  sanctuaries ;  to 
make  each  sepulchre  give  up  again  to  life  its  illustrious 
dead  for  the  glory  of  God  and  for  the  instruction  of  us 
who  tread  these  famous  floors ;  to  feel  within  ourselves 
a  new  life  inspired  by  the  grandeur,  the  beauty,  the 
hoary  crown  and  the  length  of  days,  beneath  which  our 
lot  is  cast ;  to  throw  new  life  and  meaning  into  the 
words  of  our  Services,  into  the  truths  of  our  Creeds, 
into  the  very  sounds  of  our  hymns  and  anthems  —  this 
indeed  would  be  to  become  "  living  stones,1  a  spiritual 
house,  an  holy  priesthood,  to  offer  up  spiritual  sacrifices 
acceptable  to  God  by  Jesus  Christ." 

And  not  only  from  the  dead  outward  structure,  or 
from  the  outward  sounds  and  words,  but  from  the  liv- 
ing souls  and  spirits  who  live  and  move  among  and 
around  these  ancient  sepulchres  and  mighty  walls  shall 
our  living  sacrifice  be  found. 

What  a  fresh  stream  of  youthful  interest  for  so  many 
generations  has  been  poured  through  our  aged  cloisters 
and  our  venerable  precincts  by  the  illustrious  School, 
which  unites  us  in  them  to  the  two  greatest  Colleges 
of  our  two  great  seats  of  learning  !  What  a  refuge  for 
calm  learning,  for  eager  search  after  truth,  for  advance 
of  the  landmarks  of  knowledge,  is  still  supplied  by  this 
sacred  spot, — as  in  earlier  ages  rescued  from  amidst 
the  waste  of  waters  and  the  tangled  thickets  of  the 
wilderness,  so  now  rescued  from  the  ever-advancing 
roar  of  this  vast  city,  from  the  thorny  paths  of  passion 
and  faction  ;  a  temple  where  serener  thoughts  may  be 

1  1  Pet.  ii.  5. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  15 

breathed  and  higher  interests  served,  above  the  waves 
and  storms  of  this  troublesome  and  shifting  world ! 

What  a  flood  of  spiritual  life  should  stream  from  this 
the  very  heart  of  England's  heart,  to  enlighten,  purify, 
animate,  the  ignorant,  the  suffering,  the  young,  the 
helpless,  the  oppressed,  the  desolate  !  What  a  return- 
ing stream  of  life  should  flow  back  from  them  to  awaken 
our  silence,  to  stir  up  our  seclusion,  to  respond  to  our 
services,  to  profit  by  our  instructions  ! 

And  as  we  look  forward  to  the  future,  can  we  forbear 
with  grateful  hearts  to  reflect  what  an  encouragement, 
what  a  stimulus  to  all  who  come  after,  has  been  already 
furnished  by  the  changes  effected  through  the  activity 
and  the  self-denial  of  those  who  have  gone  before  !  How 
widely  of  later  years  have  our  doors  been  opened  by 
the  just  confidence  which  has  removed  the  barrier  that 
shut  out  the  sight  of  our  historic  walls  from  those  who 
would  most  benefit  by  the  sight  of  them  !  What  a  new 
glory  has  been  thrown  around  even  this  glorious  church, 
by  the  rule  of  the  wise  and  good  and  gentle  Head  now 
to  be  withdrawn  from  us ;  under  whose  auspices  the 
silence  of  our  majestic  nave  has,  after  a  slumber  of 
three  hundred  years,  been  again  broken  by  the  tramp- 
ling feet  of  vast  congregations,  by  the  welcome  sounds 
of  prayer  and  praise,  by  the  eloquent  voices  of  the 
goodly  company  of  preachers  !  What  a  renewed  energy 
of  all  good  works,  what  an  inroad  of  the  living  word  of 
God  into  the  dense  circles  of  vice  and  ignorance  which 
surround  our  precincts,  by  the  zeal  and  munificence  of 
those  who  have  cared  for  the  wants  of  our  vast  parishes  ; 
where  within  thirty  years  churches  have  been  trebled 
and  quadrupled,  clergy  raised  from  six  to  twenty-eight, 
school-children  from  three  hundred  to  three  thousand ! 
What  living  sacrifices  may  have  been  already,  and  may 
yet  still  be,  snatched  out  of  the  dead  masses  that  en- 


16      A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE. 

close  us  right  and  left,  by  that  adventurous  movement 
for  the  spiritual  aid  of  Westminster,1  which  was  first 
begun  by  one  of  our  own  number,  who  threw  himself 
with  all  the  fervor  and  generosity  of  his  nature  into 
the  work  of  rousing  the  neighborhood  to  a  sense  of  the 
need !  What  a  revolution,  directly  or  indirectly,  was 
effected  by  that  single  effort ;  a  blessing  not  only  to 
them  that  received  and  to  those  that  are  passed  away, 
but  to  him  that  gave  and  to  those  that  will  come  after ; 
what  a  new  crown  of  honor  to  the  great  Abbey,  which 
for  nineteen  years  he  has  thus  faithfully  served ! 

0  may  we  all  be  roused  by  these  and  like  mercies  to 
renewed  efforts  for  the  future  !  O  may  we  all  unite  in 
the  living  work,  of  whatever  kind  it  be,  to  which  by  our 
own  special  gifts  we  may  be  called !  Too  vast,  too  va- 
rious to  be  discharged  by  any  single  hand  or  any  single 
mind,  it  belongs  to  all  alike,  for  each  to  take  that  part 
which  he  can  best  perform.  "Whatsoever  —  whatso- 
ever it  be  that  thy  hand,  thine  own  hand,  findeth  to  do, 
do  it  with  all  thy  might."  Each  has  his  own  peculiar 
call.  "  We  are,"  as  the  Apostle  says,  in  the  words  fol- 
lowing on  my  text,  "  many  members  in  one  body,  but 
all  members  have  not  the  same  office."  Let  each  make 
use  of  the  other's  gifts,  to  supply  that  which  lacketh  in 
himself,  let  each  supply  with  all  his  force  that  which 
he  alone  can  give ;  so  shall  our  sacrifice  be  indeed  the 
sacrifice  of  one  living  united  whole,  the  more  united, 
the  more  living,  because  made  up  of  divers  and  oppo- 
site parts.  And  above  all,  let  the  one  Divine  gift  be 
there  which  is  to  every  Christian  sacrifice  what  the  fire 
from  Heaven  was  to  the  sacrifices  of  old,  the  one  living 
fire  which  gives  warmth  and  light  to  every  part  —  the 

1  The  Westminster  Spiritual  Aid  Fund,  started  in  184G  by  the  exer- 
tions of  the  Rev.  Christopher  Wordsworth,  D.D.,  then  Canon  of  West- 
minster, now  Bishrp  of  Lincoln. 


A  REASONABLE,  HOLY,  AND  LIVING  SACRIFICE.  17 


fire,  the  life,  of  all  Christian  graces ;  that  supreme  grace 
of  Charity  which  "bears  all  things,  hopes  all  things, 
believes  all  things,  endures  all  things,"  "without  which 
whosoever  liveth  is  counted  dead  in  the  sight  of  God," 
Avith  which  whosoever  has  even  the  very  humblest 
measure  of  faith  and  hope,  may  have  the  blessed  assur- 
ance that  he  has  passed  from  death  to  life,  if  only  he 
love  the  brethren. 

In  and  through  that  Divine  Charity,  that  Divine  Life 
and  Death  of  Charity,  of  which  all  earthly  charity  is  the 
faint  and  humble  likeness,  we  therefore  now  present 
unto  Thee.  O  Lord,  ourselves,  body,  soul,  and  spirit,  to 
be  unto  Thee,  "a  reasonable,  holy,  and  living  sacrifice ;  " 
and  although  through  our  manifold  sins  and  weaknesses 
we  are  unworthy  to  offe  unto  Thee  any  sacrifice,  yet 
we  beseech  Thee  to  accept  this  our  bounden  duty  and 
service ;  not  weighing  our  merits,  but  pardoning  our 
offences ;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  by  whom  and 
with  whom,  in  the  unity  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  all  honor 
and  glory  be  unto  Thee,  O  Father  Almighty,  world 
without  end. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


December  28,  1865  (the  Feast  of  the  Holy  Innocents),  being  the  eight 
hundredth  anniversary  of  the  foundation  of  the  Abbey  by  King  Edward 
the  Confessor. 

« 

It  was  .  .  .  the  Feast  of  the  Dedication,  and  it  was  winter.  And 
Jesus  walked  in  the  Temple  in  Solomon's  porch.  — John.x.  22,  23. 

Every  word  in  this  text  seems  to  breathe  a  peculiar 
savor.  It  exemplifies  a  trait  in  our  Lord's  life,  not  com- 
mon, not  belonging  to  the  essence  of  His  Divine  mission, 
not  bearing  on  the  general  edification  of  Christendom, 
but  still  deeply  connected  with  some  of  the  best  feel- 
ings of  the  human  heart,  and  a  help  to  the  upward 
course  even  of  the  saints  of  God.  It  is  the  sense  of  a 
great  historic  past ;  an  attachment  to  local  memories ; 
the  recollection  of  famous  anniversaries ;  the  delight  in 
the  names  of  the  mighty  dead. 

"  It  was  the  Feast  of  the  Dedication."  It  was  the 
festival,  not  of  the  first  foundation  and  consecration  of 
the  Temple,  but  of  that  reconsecration  of  it  by  Judas 
Maccabseus,  when  he  and  all  the  host  "  saw  the  sanc- 
tuary desolate,  and  the  altar  profaned,  and  the  gates 
burned  up,  and  shrubs  growing  in  the  court  as  in  a 
forest,  or  in  one  of  the  mountains,"  and  amidst  the 
sound  of  "  trumpet  and  songs,  and  citherns,  and  harps 
and  cymbals,"  1  the  new  altar  was  dedicated.  "  It  was 
winter ;  "  the  words  recall  the  very  time  of  the  year 
when  this  joyful  celebration  took  place,  on  the  five-and- 

i  1  Maccab.  iv.  38,  40,  52,  54,  55,  58. 

18 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  19 

twentieth  day  of  the  ninth  month,  —  that  is,  of  our 
month  of  December,  —  on  the  same  clay  on  which, 
three  years  before,  the  heathen  had  profaned  it ;  in 
the  same  inclement  season,  of  which  we  read  in  the 
book  of  Ezra,1  how  the  wintry  sleet  so  depressed  the 
people,  that  they  sat  trembling  and  cowering  "  for 
the  great  rain  "  and  cold  ;  yet  still,  in  spite  of  it,  "  there 
was  very  great  gladness  among  the  people,"  "  worship- 
ping and  praising  God,  who  had  given  them  good  suc- 
cess, and  put  away  the  reproach  of  the  heathen." 

On  such  an  anniversary  as  this  —  not  one  of  the 
greatest  in  their  history,  not  sanctioned  by  the  Law  or 
the  Prophets,  full  only  of  that  strong  religious  and 
national  feeling  which  belongs  to  the  memory  of  every 
such  event  in  every  history  — "  Jesus,"  we  are  told, 
"  was  in  Jerusalem,  and  walked  in  the  Temple  in  Solo- 
mon's porch."  He  blessed  it  by  His  presence.  The 
joy  which  broke  through  the  gloom  of  that  wintry  sea- 
son He  condescended  to  make  His  joy.  He  walked  to 
and  fro  in  the  courts  and  cloisters  of  the  Temple  hal- 
lowed by  those  ancient  recollections  of  patriotism  and 
devotion.  He  lingered  in  that  splendid  portico  which 
closed  the  eastern  side  of  the  Temple  courts,  and  which 
was  called  after  the  great  king  who,  long  before  the 
dedication  of  Judas  Maccabseus,  had  consecrated  the 
whole  place,  and  whose  glory  awakened  a  thrill  of  emo- 
tion, if  we  may  so  say,  perceptible  in  the  words  of  the 
Redeemer,  whenever  He  named  the  name  of  Solomon. 

On  such  an  anniversary  as  this,  we,  too,  are  gathered 
together  in  a  building,  if  less  famous,  and  in  some 
respects  less  sacred,  yet  of  far  grander  dimensions, 
numbering  far  longer  years,  and  bound  up  with  events 
hardly  less  stirring  than  that  in  which  "  Jesus  walked  ;  " 
underneath  a  porch,  and  ro<  f,  and  walls,  which,  in  part, 

i  Ezra,  x.  9-13. 


20 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


even  in  name,1  still  more  in  the  regal  magnificence 
which  it  has  witnessed  from  age  to  age,  recalls,  by  a  not 
unworthy  association,  the  art,  and  the  power,  and  the 
glory  of  the  kings  of  Judah. 

Eight  hundred  years  have  passed  since  on  this  day 
was  completed  the  dedication  of  the  Abbey,  which,  like 
that  Jewish  Temple,  was  purified,  and  adorned,  and 
consecrated  in  the  place  of  the  ruin  and  desolation 
which  had  well-nigh  swept  away  the  vestiges  of  older 
times. 

We  know  not  what  may  have  existed  before  in  the 
days  of  Offa  or  Edgar,  or  the  doubtful  Sebert,  or  the 
still  more  doubtful  Lucius,  amidst  the  bristling  thickets 
and  the  stagnant  channels  of  the  Isle  of  Thorns,2  beside 
the  swollen  current  of  the  dark  and  stormy  river,  in 
the  savage  solitudes,  parted  by  many  a  rushing  stream, 
and  many  a  broad  green  field,  from  the  Roman  or  Brit- 
ish fortress  on  the  adjacent  hills  of  London.  On  that 
earlier  antiquity  we  need  not  dwell.  We  need  on  this 
day  only  go  back  in  thought  to  that  Innocents'  Day, 
eight  centuries  ago,  when  the  act  was  completed  which 
fixed  the  destiny  of  this  building  and  of  this  spot  for 
all  future  time. 

There  is  something  in  the  simple  words  of  the  Saxon 
Chronicle  describing  this  event  which  almost  seems 
like  a  faint  echo  of  the  words  of  the  text.  "  At  Mid- 
winter King  Edward  came  to  Westminster,  and  had  the 
Minster  there  consecrated  which  he  had  himself  built 
to  the  honor  of  God,  and  S.  Peter,  and  all  God's 
saints."  It  was  at  Christmas  time,  —  when,  as  usual  in 
that  age,  the  Court  assembled  in  the  adjoining  Palace 
of  Westminster,  —  that  the  long-desired  dedication  was 

1  The  Northern  Porch,  the  great  entrance  to  the  Abbey,  is  known  by 
the  name  of  Solomon's  Porch. 

2  Thorn-Ey. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


21 


to  be  accomplished.  The  King  had  been  for  years  pos- 
sessed with  the  thought.  Like  David  in  the  Psalm  of 
this  morning's  service,  he  "  could  not  suffer  his  eyes  to 
sleep  nor  the  temples  of  his  head  to  take  any  rest,  until 
he  had  found  out  a  place  "  1  for  the  great  sanctuary 
which  was  henceforth  to  be  the  centre  of  his  kingdom. 

On  Christmas  Day,  according  to  custom,  he  appeared 
in  state  wearing  his  royal  crown  ;  but  on  Christmas 
night  his  strength,  prematurely  exhausted,  gave  way. 
The  mortal  illness,  long  expected,  set  in.  He  struggled 
through  the  three  next  days,  and,  though  when  the 
Festival  of  the  Holy  Innocents  arrived  he  was  already 
too  weak  to  take  any  active  part  in  the  ceremony,  yet 
he  aroused  himself  on  that  day,  to  sign  the  Charter  of 
the  Foundation  ;  and  at  his  orders,  the  Queen,  with  all 
the  magnates  of  the  kingdom,  gathered  within  the 
walls,  now  venerable  from  age,  then  fresh  from  the 
workmen's  tools,  to  give  to  them  the  first  consecration, 
the  first  which,  according  to  the  belief  of  that  time,  the 
spot  had  ever  received  from  mortal  hands.  By  that 
effort,  the  enfeebled  frame  and  overstrained  spirit  of 
the  King  was  worn  out.  On  the  evening  of  Innocents' 
Day,  he  sank  into  a  deadly  stupor.  One  sudden  and 
startling  rally  took  place  on  the  eighth  day  of  his  ill- 
ness, on  the  fifth  of  January.  The  recollections  of  the 
teachers  of  his  youth,  the  dim  forebodings  of  approach- 
ing disaster  and  change,  found  vent  in  a  few  strange, 
hardly  coherent,  sentences  that  burst  from  his  lips. 
Then  followed  a  calm,  during  which,  with  words,  very 
variously  reported,  respecting  the  Queen,  the  succes- 
sion, and  the  hope  that  he  was  passing  "  from  a  land 
of  death  to  a  land  of  life,"  in  the  chamber  which  long 
afterwards  bore  his  name  in  the  Palace  of  Westminster, 
he  breathed  his  last. 


1  Ps.  cxxxii.  3. 


22 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


A  horror,  it  is  described,  as  of  great  darkness,  filled 
the  whole  island ;  with  hirn  it  seemed  as  if  the  happi- 
ness, the  liberty,  the  strength  of  the  English  people  had 
vanished  away.1  So  dark  were  the  forebodings,  so 
urgent  the  dangers  which  appeared  to  press,  that  on 
the  very  next  day,  while  Duke  Harold  was  crowned  in 
the  old  cathedral  of  St.  Paul's,  the  dead  King  was 
buried  within  the  newly-finished  Abbey.  —  the  first  of 
the  hundreds  who  have  been  since  laid  there  round  his 
own  honored  grave. 

My  brethren,  this  is  not  the  time  or  place  to  enlarge 
on  the  historical  or  antiquarian  interest  of  this  remark- 
able event ;  to  describe  how  far  the  present  fabric  cor- 
responds with  that  erected  by  Edward ; 2  to  show  where 
we  can  still  lay  our  hands  on  stones  which  witnessed 
that  scene ;  what  changes  it  has  since  undergone,  what 
has  been  done,  and  what  still  needs  to  be  done,  to 
complete  and  carry  on  the  work  on  this  day  dedicated 
forever  to  God.  But  there  are  reflections  which  it 
suggests,  such  as  can  be  offered  nowhere  else  so  fitly 
as  on  this  occasion,  and  from  this  place. 

1  Life  of  the  Confessor  by  Ailred  of  Rievaulx. 

2  For  the  Abbey,  as  built  by  the  Confessor,  see  the  representation  in 
the  Bayeux  Tapestry,  and  the  Latin  description  in  the  time  of  Henry  I., 
and  the  French  poem  in  the  time  of  Henry  III.,  published  in  Mr. 
Luard's  Collection  (pp.  90,  244,  417),  with  Mr.  Scott's  comments,  in  the 
Gleaninr/s  of  Westminster  Abbeij,  p.  3,  4.  The  Abbey,  as  we  now  see  it, 
was  for  the  most  part  rebuilt  by  King  Henry  III.  (1220  to  1261')  out  of 
regard  to  the  memory  of  the  Confessor,  and  continued  by  subsequent 
sovereigns  down  to  the  reign  of  George  II.  But,  though  re-constructed 
on  a  more  magnificent  scale  than  the  Church  of  King  Edward,  it  covers, 
as  is  believed,  the  same  ground;  and  there  are  still  vestiges  of  the  ori- 
ginal building  to  be  seen  in  the  Pyx  Chapel,  in  the  passage  leading  from 
the  Great  to  the  Little  Cloisters,  and  perhaps  in  some  portions  of  the 
walls  of  the  ancient  Dormitory  and  Refectory,  and  of  the  Crypt  under 
the  Chapter-house.  The  Founder  was  originally  buried  before  the  High 
Altar,  but  his  remains  were  ultimately  removed  to  the  present  Shrine 
in  1269  by  King  Henry  III.  The  original  Church  of  Sebert  or  of  Edgar 
stood  at  the  western  end  of  the  preseut  Abbey. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


23 


I.  First,  then,  the  celebration  of  this  anniversary, 
connected  as  it  is  with  the  whole  growth  of  the  Abbey 
and  all  its  glories,  out  of  the  act  and  deed,  out  of  the 
life  and  death  and  grave  of  such  an  one  as  was  our 
Founder,  is  a  tribute  to  the  undying  power  of  that 
simple  childlike  goodness  which  this  Festival  of  the 
Innocents  of  itself  commemorates,  and  which  is  the 
one  permanent  and  distinguishing  feature  of  the  tradi- 
tional character  of  Edward  the  Confessor. 

Let  us  see  exactly  what  that  character  was.  On  the 
one  hand,  if  we  look  at  the  details  of  his  history,  it  is 
hardly  possible  to  imagine  a  figure  more  unlike,  more 
incongruous  to  our  own  time  than  was  the  quaint,  irres- 
olute, guileless  King,  who  alone  of  all  the  canonized 
English  saints  rests  undisturbed  in  his  ancient  shrine. 
We  know  him  well,  as  he  is  described  to  us  by  his  con- 
temporaries. We  see  that  grave,  gentle  figure,  old  even 
as  a  child,  moving  slowly  along  with  downcast  ejes. 
We  recognize  him  at  a  distance  by  the  singular  appear- 
ance of  his  full,  flushed,  rose-red  face,  contrasted  with 
the  milky  whiteness  of  his  waving  hair  and  beard.  As 
we  draw  nearer,  we  hear  those  startling  peals  of  strange 
unearthly  laughter,1  which  broke  through  his  usual 
silence  ;  we  see  those  thin  pale  hands,  those  long  trans- 
parent fingers,  with  which,  as  it  was  believed  at  the 
time,  and  for  many  generations  afterwards,  he  had  the 
power  of  stroking  away  the  diseases  of  his  subjects. 
We  are  astonished,  as  we  look  into  his  outer  manner  of 
life,  at  finding  a  prince  whose  time  is  equally  divided 
between  devotional  exercises  and  the  passionate  pursuit 
of  hunting  ;  when  not  in  church,  spending  day  after 
day  with  his  hawks,  or  cheering  on  his  hounds.  We 
find,  as  we  penetrate  into  his  inner  life,  a  childishness  of 

1  As  in  the  stories  of  his  visions  of  the  Danish  king  and  of  the  Seven 
Sleepers. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


thought  and  action,  which  at  times  turned  into  harsh 
disregard  of  those  to  whom  he  was  most  nearly  bound, 
and  at  times  into  the  most  fanciful  extravagances.  We 
discover,  if  we  examine  into  the  actual  grounds  of  his 
titles  of  Confessor  and  Saint,  that  they  belong  to  the 
fierce  struggles  between  Saxon  and  Dane,  to  the  worldly 
policy  of  Norman  rulers,  to  the  lingering  regrets  of 
Saxon  subjects  —  most  interesting  and  touching  to  the 
English  historian,  but  to  the  general  heart  and  mind  of 
Christendom  of  slight  moment  and  of  small  account. 
In  these  respects  the  gulf  of  eight  centuries  between 
us  and  him  is  indeed  impassable.  His  opinions,  his 
practices,  his  prevailing  motives,  even  in  the  act  of  this 
foundation,  are  such  as  in  our.  own  times,  not  only  not 
in  England,  but  in  no  part  of  Christian  Europe,  would 
be  shared  by  any  educated  teacher  or  any  educated 
ruler. 

I  dwell  on  these  differences,  because  they  serve  to 
bring  out  more  clearly  the  true  lesson  which  is  taught 
by  his  life  and  death ;  namely,  that  through,  and  across, 
and  in  spite  of  those  immeasurable  divergences,  we  yet 
can  recognize  an  innocent  childlike  faith,  which  was 
the  secret  cause  of  the  charm  exercised  by  him  over  his 
countrymen  then,  which  may  flourish  still  in  our  altered 
age,  and  has  always  an  appointed  place  in  the  economy 
of  God's  ever-moving  world. 

This  Church  —  so  we  hear  it  said  sometimes  with  a 
cynical  sneer,  sometimes  with  a  timorous  scruple  —  has 
admitted  within  its  walls  many  who  have  been  great 
without  being  good  ;  wise,  without  being  simple  ;  noble, 
with  a  nobleness  not  heavenly  or  saintly,  but  of  the 
earth  earthy,  of  the  world  worldly,  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  children  of  this  world.  Meanly  and  lightly  do  they 
conceive  of  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  God  who 
would  complain  of  this  wide  recognition  of  all  His  gifts 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


25 


to  man.  Yet  still  it  is  a  counterbalancing  reflection, 
full  of  weighty  truth,  that  the  central  tomb,  round 
which  all  these  warriors  and  poets  and  statesmen  repose, 
contains  the  ashes  of  one  who,  weak  and  erring  in  many 
respects,  as  they  were,  rests  his  claims  to  interment 
here,  not  on  any  act  or  deed  which  could  rank  him 
amongst  the  great  ones  of  the  earth,  but  on  the  artless 
piety,  the  guileless  faith  of  those  early  days.  He 
towards  whose  dust  was  attracted  the  fierce  Norman,1 
and  the  proud  Plantagenet,  and  the  grasping  Tudor, 
and  the  fickle  Stuart  —  the  stern  Edwards,  the  frivo- 
lous Richard,  the  conquering  Henry,  the  worldly-wise 
Elizabeth,  with  her  unfortunate  sister,  and  still  more 
unfortunate  rival,  the  pedant  James  with  his  ill-starred 
descendants,  and,  even  from  remoter  circles,  the  Inde- 
pendent Oliver,  the  Dutch  William,  and  the  Hanoverian 
George  —  was  one  whose  humble  graces  were  within  the 
reach  of  every  man,  woman,  and  child,  in  every  time,  if 
we  rightly  separate  the  perishable  form  from  the  im- 
mortal substance.  His  goodness  and  piety  were  accord- 
ing to  the  light  and  means  of  his  age.  We,  if  we  would 
follow  in  his  footsteps,  must  be  good  and  pious  accord- 
ing to  the  light  and  means,  not  of  his  age,  but  of  ours, 
not  of  the  eleventh  century,  but  of  the  nineteenth. 
The  self  devotion,  the  charity  of  those  ancient  times 
need  not,  must  not,  shall  not  die.  In  order  to  live,  and 
flourish,  and  abound,  it  must  take  the  forms,  and  use 
the  means,  and  value  the  light  of  those  eight  hundred 
years,  which  God's  mercy  has  added  to  the  world's 
experience  since  the  Confessor  passed  away.  Still  it 
is  his  goodness  which  is  here  enshrined  —  whatever 
shade  or  whatever  light  rest  upon  it  —  and  which  we, 
under  forms  however  altered,  must  continue  and  in- 

1  The  Norman  kings  were  not  buried,  but  were  the  first  to  be 
crowned,  in  the  Abbey. 


26  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

crease.  It  is  to  his  faith  in  the  unseen  ■world,  amidst 
whatever  ignorance  and  darkness,  that  we  owe  this 
complex  structure.  He  spoke  the  word,  and  it  was 
transformed  into  stone ;  and  even  in  some  of  its  most 
peculiar  features,  the  institution  still  perpetuates  the 
thought  of  its  first  Founder.  "  Through  faith,"  we 
may  well  say,  "  he  has  stopped  the  mouth  of  Time, 
quenched  the  violence  of  enemies,  escaped  the  edge  of 
the  sword,  out  of  weakness  been  made  strong."  1 

II.  And  this  brings  me  to  the  second  point,  of  which 
the  day  invites  us  to  think.  Not  only,  as  I  have  just 
said,  have  eight  centuries  rolled  by,  each  bringing  its 
accumulated  stores  of  thought,  and  wealth,  and  experi- 
ence to  our  country,  but  the  very  event  of  which  we  are 
now  celebrating  the  anniversary,  was  itself  the  begin- 
ning of  a  new  order  of  things  which  has  continued  ever 
since. 

The  year  in  which  the  Abbey  was  dedicated,  was  not 
only  the  last  year  of  King  Edward  the  Confessor,  but 
it  was  the  eve  of  the  Conquest,  the  year  preceding  the 
greatest  change  which,  with  one  exception,  this  Church 
and  nation  have  witnessed  since  the  days  when  this  spot 
was  first  reclaimed  from  its  thorny  thickets,  in  the  dim 
and  distant  age  of  our  earliest  conversion  to  the  Chris- 
tian Faith.  Christmas  Day,  1065,  was  the  last  which 
ever  saw  an  Anglo-Saxon  king  bearing  the  English 
Crown.  The  first  coronation  which  these  halls  wit- 
nessed was  that  by  which,  on  Christmas  Day,  1066,  the 
Norman  Conqueror  effected  his  stora^  seizure  of  the 
throne  and  realm  of  England.  And  of  this  vast  change, 
the  simple-hearted  Founder  of  the  Abbey  was,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  himself  the  chief  inaugurator. 
Saxon  as  he  was  by  birth,  yet  by  education  he  was  a 
Norman.    Almost  at  the  moment  of  his  death  he  wa- 


1  Heb.  xi.  33,  34. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  27 

verecl  between  a  Saxon  or  a  Norman  successor.  He  had 
imbibed  the  first  elements  of  that  Norman,  Southern, 
French,  Italian  civilization,  which  was  to  quicken  the 
dull  and  stagnant  blood  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  ances- 
tors. 

This  Abbey,  the  great  work  of  his  life,  the  last  relic 
which  the  royal  house  of  Cedric  bequeathed  to  England, 
was  itself  the  shadow  cast  before  of  the  coming  event,  a 
portent  of  the  mighty  future.  Few  changes  have  ever 
been  so  sudden  and  so  significant  as  that  by  which,  in 
the  place  of  the  humble  wooden  or  wattled  churches  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  arose  the  massive  buildings 
of  the  Norman  style.  The  solid  pillars,  the  rounded 
arches,  the  lofty  roof,  the  cruciform  shape,  —  all  these 
were  new  and  strange  to  a  degree  which  we  can  now 
hardly  conceive ;  and  of  this  new  style  and  shape  and 
dimensions,  the  Abbey  of  the  Confessor  was  the  first 
signal  example.  When  Harold  stood  by  the  side  of  his 
brother  Gurth  and  his  sister  Edith,  on  the  day  of  the 
dedication,  and  signed  his  name  with  theirs  as  witness 
to  the  charter  of  the  Abbey,  he  might  have  seen  that  he 
was  signing  his  own  doom,  and  preparing  for  his  own 
destruction.  The  ponderous  arches  in  yonder  cloisters, 
under  which  the  Saxon  nobles  passed  with  awe-struck 
wonder,  to  the  huge  edifice  that,  with  its  triple  towers 
and  sculptured  stones  and  storied  windows,  overtopped 
all  the  homely  tenements  far  and  near,  might  have  told 
them  that  the  days  of  their  power  were  numbered,  and 
that  the  avenging,  the  civilizing,  the  stimulating  hand 
of  another  and  a  mightier  race  had  been  there  at 
work,  which  would  change  the  whole  face  of  their  lan- 
guage, their  manners,  their  church,  and  their  common- 
wealth. 

And  yet  more,  the  Abbey  itself  was,  as  it  were,  a  new 
centre  for  a  new  political  and  religious  world.  The 


28  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


"  Old  Minster,"  1  as  the  Cathedral  of  Winchester  was 
called,  in  which  the  Saxon  kings  had  for  centuries  been 
crowned  and  buried,  was  now  to  be  exchanged  for  this 
"  New  Minster,"  depending  for  its  fame  on  the  future 
generations  which  were  to  be  gathered  within  it.  It 
was,  we  may  say,  founded  not  only  in  faith,  but  in  hope 
—  in  the  hope  that  England  had  yet  a  glorious  career  to 
run ;  that  the  line  of  her  sovereigns  would  not  be  dried 
up  even  when  the  race  of  Alfred  had  ceased  to  reign ; 
that  the  troubles  which  the  King,  as  it  was  believed, 
saw  in  prophetic  visions  darkening  the  whole  horizon  of 
Europe,  would  pass  away,  and  that  a  brighter  day  was 
yet  in  store,  than  he  or  any  living  man  in  the  gloom  of 
that  disastrous  winter,  in  the  rudeness  of  that  boister- 
ous age,  could  venture  to  anticipate.  We  have  seen 
how  that  hope  has  been  more  than  fulfilled ;  how  the 
Abbey  has  been  renovated,  enlarged,  glorified,  by  dy- 
nasty after  dynasty ;  how,  even  if  at  times  disfigured 
and  neglected,  it  has  kept  its  hold,  with  a  tenacity  un- 
equalled by  any  other  building,  on  the  reverence  of  the 
whole  English  people ;  how  its  precincts  have  witnessed 
not  only  the  solemn  inauguration  of  each  successive 
stage  of  the  English  monarchy,  but  the  parallel  rise  and 
growth  of  English  constitutional  liberty ;  how  it  has 
been  the  refuge,  both  in  life  and  death,  of  princes  who 
had  no  other  place  to  lay  their  heads.  We  see  how,  in 
the  change  of  the  Reformation,  greater,  as  I  have  said, 
even  than  the  Norman  Conquest,  it  still  survived  the 
shock ;  how  it  has  since  enrolled  amongst  its  ministers 
many  "  wise  and  eloquent  in  their  instructions,  honored 
in  their  generation,"  and  lent  its  shelter  to  the  famous 
School,  which  has  bound  the  memory  of  so  many  illus- 
trious names  by  the  links  of  earliest  affection  to  these 

1  Possibly,  however,  as  distinguished  from  the  "  New  Monastery," 
built  by  Alfred  at  Winchester. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  29 

venerable  courts :  how  underneath  its  shade  have  been 
held  assemblies  not  only  to  discuss  some  of  the  most 
momentous  questions  interesting  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land,1 but  also  to  compile  and  send  forth  the  only  Con- 
fession of  Faith  which  was  ever  sanctioned  by  law  for 
the  whole  island,2  and  which,  though  bearing  the  name 
of  "  Westminster,"  is  still  the  established  formulary  of 
the  Presbyterian  Church  of  Scotland.  We  know  how 
its  pavement  or  its  walls  embrace  memorials  from  every 
rank  and  profession  and  opinion ;  trophies  of  chivalry, 
ancient  and  modern ;  of  poetic  invention,  sublime  or 
tender,  grave  or  gay ;  of  science  in  its  loftiest  specula- 
tions or  its  homeliest  applications ;  of  those  who  have 
wrought  immortal  deeds,  and  those  who  have  recorded 
them  in  immortal  words;  of  those  who  have  relieved 
the  sufferings,  or  upheld  the  hopes,  or  purified  the  stains 
of  our  common  humanity.  We  know  how'in  "  this  tem- 
ple of  silence  and  reconciliation  "  are  found  in  a  strange 
but  instructive  union  many  renowned  in  their  own  day, 
and  forgotten  in  ours,  with  others  once  neglected,  but 
by  a  late  justice  receiving  their  meed  of  honor ;  sover- 
eigns arid  statesmen,  divided  in  all  but  in  death  and  in 
hope  of  a  common  resurrection  ;  the  ornaments  of  other 
communions,  Roman,  Puritan,  Nonconformist,  beside 
the  uncompromising  prelates  of  our  own ;  the  doubting 
sceptic  hard  by  the  enthusiastic  believer ;  the  smoking 
flax  beside  the  blazing  lamp,  the  bruised  reed  beside  the 
sturdy  tree. 

Such  has  been  the  growth  and  the  development  of  the 

1  Within  the  Abbey  the  important  though  disastrous  acts  of  the  Con- 
vocation of  1G40  ;  in  the  Jerusalem  Chamber,  the  approval  of  the  Litur- 
gical changes  of  1602,  by  Convocation,  and  the  discussion  of  the  further 
changes  of  1089  by  the  Royal  Commission. 

2  The  doctrinal  Articles  of  the  Westminster  Confession  of  Faith  were 
sanctioned  by  the  English  Parliament  in  1647,  and  the  whole  Confession 
by  the  Scottish  Parliament  in  1648. 


30 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


seed  planted  here  by  our  Founder.  We  do  well  to 
think  of  it.  The  Abbey,  so  considered,  is  a  standing 
monument  and  witness  of  the  peculiar  formation  of  our 
English  institutions,  of  our  own  duty  towards  them 
both  as  Englishmen  and  as  Christians.  The  Xorman 
Church  erected  by  the  Saxon  King;  the  new  future 
springing  out  of  the  dying  past ;  the  expansion  of  the 
first  idea  of  an  institution  founded  for  a  -special  and 
merely  temporary  object  into  uses  co-extensive  with 
the  interests  of  the  whole  commonwealth  through  all 
its  stages  —  how  striking  an  example  is  this  of  the 
blessed  continuity  by  which  in  England  the  new  has 
been  ever  intertwined  with  the  old ;  liberty  thriven 
side  by  side  with  precedent ;  Church  and  State  been 
inextricably  interwoven  one  with  the  other ;  opposing 
parties  both  in  Church  and  State  co-existing,  neutral- 
izing, counteracting,  completing  each  other,  neither  by 
the  other  entirely  subdued,  each  by  the  other  endured, 
if  not  honored ! 

Oh  what  an  exhortation  to  hopefulness,  to  forbear- 
ance, to  comprehensive  charity !  Fear  not,  though 
troubles  brood  thick  around  us  ;  they  cannot  be  darker 
than  those  which  clouded  the  prospects  of  our  country, 
when  the  last  hope  of  England  seemed  to  be  buried  in 
the  grave  of  her  last  hereditary  Saxon  king.  Fear  not, 
though  old  things  seem  ever  passing  away,  and  all  things 
seem  to  become  new.  The  change  cannot  be  vaster 
than  when  this  new  edifice  sprang  up  on  the  ruins  of 
the  old,  and  the  rustic  solidity  of  the  Saxon  gave  way 
before  the  fiery  energy  and  fresh  life  of  the  adventurers 
from  beyond  the  sea.  Fear  not  to  build  up  the  waste 
places,  and  put  a  new  sense  and  a  new  force  into  old 
words  and  old  institutions  ;  or  to  employ  the  resources 
of  the  present  to  carry  out  the  duties  and  the  principles 
of  the  past.  There  cannot  be  any  difference  more  wide, 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


31 


any  incongruity  more  irreconcilable  than  there  was 
between  the  humble  hovels  that  stood  here  amidst  the 
island  thickets,  and  the  new  building  that  was  to  rise 
in  its  place  and  gather  within  its  walls  the  greatness  of 
a  new  empire.  The  vicissitudes  and  ramifications  of 
the  architecture,  the  worship,  the  uses  of  this  building, 
are  likenesses  of  that  true  "  enlargement "  of  the  Church 
of  God  and  of  the  Church  of  England,  which  is  a  chief 
duty  of  every  one  who  takes  office  in  this  place,  so  as 
to  embrace  within  its  sympathy  (I  use  the  words  of  a 
living 1  statesman),  "  every  true  instinct  and  need  of 
man,  regardful  of  the  just  titles  of  every  faculty  of  his 
nature,  apt  to  associate  with  and  make  its  own  all, 
under  whatever  name,  which  goes  to  enrich  and  enlarge 
the  patrimony  of  the  race."  Here,  at  least,  all  English- 
men may  forget  their  differences,  and  feel  for  the  mo- 
ment as  one  family  gathered  round  the  same  Christmas 
hearth.  Underneath  this  roof,  each  one,  of  whatever 
church,  or  sect,  or  party,  will  find  the  echoes  of  some 
memories  dear  to  himself  alone,  —  some  which  are  dear 
to  all  alike  —  all  of  them  blending,  more  or  less,  with 
that  manifold  yet  harmonious  "  voice  from  heaven  " 
which  is  as  "  the  voice  of  many  waters  "  of  the  distant 
sea  of  ages  past,  or  as  "  the  voice  of  a  great  thunder  " 
pealing  through  the  convulsions  which  have  shaken 
nations  and  churches,  or  as  "  the  voice  of  harpers  harp- 
ing on  their  harps  a  new,"  a  nobler  "  song  "  of  Truth 
and  Love,  "  before  the  Throne,"  and  "•  before  the  Elders  " 
of  ancient  days,  and  "before  the  Four  Living  Creatures" 
of  God's  boundless  universe.2 

III.  From  this  thought  we  pass  at  once  to  the  direct 
object  of  the  foundation  of  this  august  edifice.  I  speak 
not  of  those  curious  legends,'  and  dreams,  and  visions, 

1  Address  of  Mr.  Gladstone  to  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

2  Eev.  iv.  2.   The  Epistle  of  the  Day. 


32  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


and  vows,  which  wrought  the  Confessor's  mind  to  the 
act  of  dedicating  this  Church,  which  now  only  concern 
us,  as  showing  in  how  perishable,  yet  for  the  time  how 
solid  a  vesture  great  ideas  have  clothed  themselves. 
They  shall  perish,  but  these  shall  endure.  For,  under- 
neath all  these  imaginations,  there  was  the  fixed  inten- 
tion, which  has  never  died  out  of  these  walls  amidst 
their  many  changes,  that  this  magnificent  pile  was  to 
be  the  house  where  Christian  souls  might  meet  to  hold 
converse  with  their  Maker.  Whatever  it  has  since 
become  —  of  royal,  or  heroic,  or  historic,  or  artistic  — 
it  would  have  ceased  to  be,  if  it  had  not  been,  over  and 
above  these  and  much  more  than  these,  a  place  dedi- 
cated forever  to  the  worship  of  Almighty  God. 

This,  it  is  true,  is  the  purpose  which  it  shares  in 
common  with  the  humblest  church  or  chapel  in  the 
kingdom.  But,  at  least,  to  us  who  here  carry  on  that 
worship,  the  dignity,  the  perpetuity,  of  our  office  is 
brought  home  with  double  force  by  the  reflection  that 
on  it,  as  on  a  thin,  at  times  almost  invisible  thread, 
has  hung  every  other  interest  which  from  generation 
to  generation  has  accumulated  round  us.  Break  that 
thread,  and  the  whole  building  becomes  an  unmeaning 
labyrinth.  Extinguish  that  sacred  fire,  and  the  arched 
vaults  and  soaring  pillars  would  assume  the  sickly  hue 
of  a  cold  artificial  Valhalla,  and  "the  rows  of  warriors 
and  the  walks  of  kings  "  would  be  transformed  into  the 
conventional  galleries  of  a  lifeless  museum. 

You  who  have  worshipped  here  week  by  week,  year 
by  year ;  to  whom  these  stones  speak  not  of  any  secular 
or  ecclesiastical  grandeur,  but  of  the  silent  nurture  of 
your  individual  souls,  of  rest  to  the  weary  and  heavy- 
laden  in  its  holy  services,  of  dear  recollections  of  de- 
parted friends,  sons,  brothers,  parents,  partners  in  life's 
struggle,  that  with  you  have  here  learned  to  know  and 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  33 

value  the  secrets  of  heaven  and  the  blessings  of  earth : 
—  They  who  in  former  times,  few  and  scanty  it  may  be, 
or  in  much  ignorance,  sought  God  beside  mediaeval 
shrine  or  relic ;  or,  in  after  days,  caught  here  the  im- 
passioned words  of  Baxter  and  Owen ;  or  through 
succeeding  generations  have  drunk  in  the  calm  and 
strengthening  prayers  of  our  own  Liturgy,  in  the  ever- 
-  recurring  cycle  of  the  Christian  year:  —  By  these,  and 
such  as  these,  one  may  almost  say,  through  all  the 
changes  of  language  and  government,  this  giant  fabric 
has  been  sustained,  when  worldly  ecclesiastics  or  grasp- 
ing statesmen  would  have  let  it  pass  away. 

From  many  a  "  secret "  nook,  unthought  of  there, 

Rises  for  that  proud  "  Church  "  their  "  still "  prevailing  prayer ; 

and  its  Founder's  intention  has  been  carried  on  by  many 
a  one  who  never  thought  of  him,  as  he  could  never  have 
dreamed  of  them. 

And  you,  young  and  old,  who  take  part  in  our  ser- 
vices day  by  day  —  you,  too,  who  love  to  lend  your 
voices  to  add  to  them  new  grace  and  force — join  hand 
in  hand,  and  heart  to  heart,  with  those  who  in  times 
gone  by,  within  these  walls,  "found  out  those  musical 
tunes  "  which  we  to-day  sing  over  their  graves,  to  make 
the  worship  worthy  of  the  place,  as  the  place  is  worthy 
of  the  worship. 

It  was  the  hope  of  the  Founder,  it  was  the  belief  of 
his  age,  that  on  this  spot  was  literally  planted  a  ladder 
on  which  angels  might  be  seen  ascending  and  descend- 
ing from  the  courts  of  heaven.  Fond  dream  !  we  say  ; 
yet  surely  not  altogether  fond  if  we  can  accept  and  fulfil 
the  brief  words  in  which  the  most  majestic  of  English 
divines  has  described  the  nature  of  Christian  worship. 
"  What,"  he  says,  "  is  the  assembling  of  the  Church  to 
learn  but  the  receiving  of  angels  descended  from  above  ? 


34  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


what  to  pray,  but  the  sending  of  angels  upward?  His 
heavenly  inspirations  and  our  holy  desires  are  as  so 
many  angels  of  intercourse  and  commerce  between  God 
and  us.  As  teaching  bringeth  us  to  know  that  God  is 
our  Supreme  Truth,  so  prayer  testifieth  that  we  acknowl- 
edge Him  Our  Sovereign  Good." 1 

And  is  this,  too,  a  fond  dream  ?  —  a  hope  too  lofty  to 
be  realized  in  our  later  days?  Not,  O  my  brethren  — 
not  if  we  could  receive  it  in  all  its  fulness  and  all  its 
simplicity.  Not  surely  in  vain  did  the  architects  of  suc- 
cessive ages  raise  this  glorious  edifice  as  we  now  behold 
it,  in  its  vast  and  delicate  proportions,  in  this  our  day 
more  keenly  appreciated  than  in  any  other  since  it  was 
first  built ;  designed,  if  ever  were  any  forms  on  earth, 
to  lift  the  soul  heavenward  to  things  unseen.  Not 
surely  in  vain  has  our  English  language  grown  to  meet 
the  highest  ends  of  devotion  with  a  force  which  the  rude 
native  dialect  or  barbaric  Latin  of  the  Confessor's  age 
could  never  attain.  Not  surely  in  vain  has  a  whole 
world  of  sacred  music  been  created,  which  no  ear  of 
Norman  or  Plantagenet  ever  heard,  no  soul  of  Saxon 
harper  or  Celtic  minstrel  ever  conceived.  Not  surely 
in  vain  has  the  knowledge  of  God's  word  and  work,  in 
the  Bible,  in  history,  and  in  nature,  always  steadily 
.  increased,  century  by  centvuy,  to  unfold  to  us  the  mind 
and  the  operations  of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do. 
Not  in  vain,  surely,  has  the  human  heart,  by  God's  grace, 
kept  its  freshness  whilst  the  world  has  been  waxing  old, 
or  the  most  restless  and  inquiring  of  human  intellects 
been  led  by  deep  experience  to  know  that  the  Everlast- 
ing arms  are  still  beneath  us,  and  the  Eternal  God  is 
our  refuge,  or  that  "  prayer  is  the  potent  inner  supple- 
ment of  noble  outward  life." 

So  surely,  even  now,  may  this  Abbey  be  a  witness  to 

i  Hooker,  Eccl.  Pol.  v.  23. 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  35 


that  one  Sovereign  Good,  of  that  One  Supreme  Truth ; 
a  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land,  a  haven  of 
rest  for  human  hearts  and  souls  in  this  tumultuous 
world,  a  breakwater  against  the  waves  upon  waves 
which  beat  unceasingly  against  its  island  shores. 

IV.  This  leads  us  to  one  concluding  thought.  For 
those  human  hearts  and  souls  outside,  that  perhaps 
never  are  brought  within  these  walls  at  all  —  for  them 
also  this  day  and  its  consequences  have  a  true  signifi- 
cance. Around  the  church  and  the  grave  of  the  Con- 
fessor has  sprung  up,  by  a  natural  effect,  the  stir  of  life 
and  activity  which  now  encircles  it.  If  he  was  the 
founder  of  the  Abbey,  he  was  hardly  less  the  founder 
of  the  City,  of  Westminster.  And  assuredly  those  souls 
of  the  poor,  the  friendless,  the  sick,1  the  suffering,  are 
precisely  those  for  whom  the  good  King  most  cared, 
and  who  cherished  the  deepest  and  longest  affection  for 
him.  If  S.  Peter,  the  Prince  of  the  Apostles,  was  the 
saint  before  whom  the  Confessor  trembled  with  a  dark, 
mysterious  awe,  S.  John,2  the  Apostle  of  Love,  was  the 
saint  whom  he  venerated  with  a  child-like,  familiar  ten- 
derness. By  that  loving  spirit  he  was  endeared  to  the 
Saxon  race,  as  the  pattern  of  a  better  age.  Through 
this,  the  sense  of  an  oppressive  or  unjust  tax  was  to  him 
like  a  cruel  wound.  Through  this,  the  name  of  Edward 
was  multiplied  far  and  wide  over  English  families,  as 
the  pledge  of  kindly,  honorable,  Christian  regard  to  the 
wants  and  the  rights  of  others. 

Much,  thank  God,  has  been  done  in  former  days,  by 
those  who  have  served  the  Abbey  of  Westminster,  for 
the  multitudes  collected  round  it.    Many  a  labyrinth  of 

1  The  alms  collected  on  this  occasion  were  devoted  to  the  Westmin- 
ster Hospital,  which  stands  on  the  site  of  the  Confessor's  Sanctuary, 
within  the  original  precincts  of  the  Abbey. 

2  See  the  comparison  of  the  Confessor's  devotion  to  S.  Peter  and  S. 
John  in  Ailred  of  Eievaubc. 


36  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

poverty  and  infamy,  as  intricate  and  as  formidable  as 
those  tangled  thickets  which  Sebert  or  Edward  cleared 
away,  has  been  levelled  by  the  active  beneficence  of 
modern  times ;  many  a  hand  has  been  stretched  out  to 
offer  spiritual  aid  to  those  most  in  need.  But  the  need 
still  continues,  still  grows,  out  of  the  necessities  engen- 
dered by  the  ancient  selection  of  this  spot  as  the  centre 
of  the  English  Empire. 

And  from  this  centre  of  the  English  Empire  when- 
ever the  need  arises,  we  may  surely  appeal  to  the  heart 
of  the  English  people,  as  now,  in  the  name  of  this  great 
Dedication,  at  this  midwinter  of  our  year,  in  the  name 
of  all  the  recollections  which  have  made  us  what  we 
are,  in  the  name  of  the  eight  long  centuries  of  God's 
continued  goodness  to  us,  that  whatsoever  each  one 
finds  to  do,  he  will  do  it  with  all  his  might,  to  cause, 
as  best  he  can,  and  in  all  manifold  senses,  this  place, 
and  all  around  it,  to  be  indeed  the  House  of  God  and 
the  Gate  of  Heaven. 

And  now,  for  these  our  mercies,  and  for  these  our 
needs,  let  us  join  our  thanksgivings  and  our  prayers  to 
Thee,  the  Giver  of  all  good,  and  the  Source  of  all 
strength. 

O  Almighty  God,  who  hast  knit  together  Thine 
elect  in  one  communion  and  fellowship,  and  built 
Thy  Church  on  the  foundation  of  the  Apostles  and 
Prophets,  Jesus  Christ  Himself  being  the  chief  corner- 
stone, who  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings 
hast  ordained  strength;  we  thank  Thee  for  the  work  of 
our  Royal  Founder,  who  out  of  weakness  was  made 
strong  to  dedicate  this  Church  to  Thy  honor ;  and  we 
pray  Thee  that  there  may  never  be  wanting  a  succes- 
sion of  Thy  faithful  servants  to  carry  on  what  he  began. 

O  Almighty  Father,  of  whom  all  the  families  in  earth 
are  named,  and  who  makest  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in 


DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  37 

a  house,  we  thank  Thee  that  Thou  hast  caused  this 
sanctuary  to  be  the  home  of  the  English  people,  and 
the  seat  of  the  Imperial  throne ;  and  hast  in  it  ever 
turned  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to  the  children,  and  the 
hearts  of  the  children  to  their  fathers.  Grant  that  "  the 
free  and  princely  spirit  of  wisdom  and  of  government, 
of  knowledge  and  of  true  godliness,  of  counsel  and  of 
strength,"  here  invoked  on  the  crowned  head  of  our 
Sovereign  Lady  the  Queen,  may  evermore  descend  on 
her  and  her  children's  children,  "  to  lead  this  people  in 
the  way  wherein  they  should  go,"  1  and  from  us  "  we 
beseech  Thee  to  take  away  all  hatred  and  prejudice  and 
whatsoever  else  may  hinder  us  from  godly  union  and 
concord :  that  as  there  is  but  one  Body  and  one  Spirit, 
and  one  Hope  of  our  calling,  one  Lord,  one  Faith,  one 
Baptism,  one  God  and  Father  of  us  all,  so  we  may 
now  and  henceforth  be  all  of  one  heart  and  one  soul, 
united  in  one  holy  bond  of  Truth  and  Peace,  of  Faith 
and  Charity."  2 

O  Almighty  Lord,  whose  never-failing  Providence 
ordereth  all  things  both  in  heaven  and  earth,  we  thank 
Thee  that,  through  the  changes  and  chances  of  eight 
hundred  years,  Thou  hast  so  guided  this  nation  that  in 
its  passage  through  things  temporal  it  has  not  lost  the 
things  eternal ;  we  thank  Thee  that  in  this  sacred  edi- 
fice, preserved  by  Thy  goodness  from  fire  and  flood, 
from  lightning  and  tempest,  from  war  and  tumult, 
Thou  hast  permitted  us  from  generation  to  generation 
to  offer  to  Thee  the  sacrifice  of  prayer,  and  to  gather 
together  the  dust  and  the  memorials  of  those  whom 
Thou  hast  raised  up  with  special  gifts  to  adorn  this 
Church  and  Commonwealth  to  Thy  glory  and  the  wel- 
fare of  mankind.    May  this  great  people  serve  Thee 

1  Prayer  from  the  Coronation  Service. 

2  Prayer  from  the  Service  for  the  Accession. 


38  DEDICATION  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


more  and  more  with  a  wise  and  understanding  heart,  in 
righteousness  and  true  holiness !  May  this  ancient  sanc- 
tuary ever  be  devoted  to  the  offering  of  Thy  true  and 
spiritual  worship,  to  the  manifesting  of  Thy  blessed 
presence,  and  to  the  communicating  of  Thy  heavenly 
grace  !  Let  Thine  ear  ever  be  attentive  to  the  prayers 
of  Thy  people,  which  within  these  walls  they  shall  make 
to  Thee.  Let  Thy  peace  visit  the  troubled  spirit  and 
heal  the  wounded  conscience  of  him  that  cometh  hither 
in  penitence  and  faith.  Let  Thy  consolations  wait  upon 
the  afflicted  and  the  mourner.  Let  Thy  Spirit  of  Truth 
be  here  with  those  who  teach,  and  with  those  who  learn, 
to  guide  them  into  all  truth.  And  we  beseech  Thee 
that  we  who  serve  in  this  holy  place  may  "  have  the 
fulness  of  Thy  grace,  that  those  things  which  our 
duty  requires 1  we  may  faithfully  perform  to  the  praise 
and  glory  of  Thy  name,  and  the  enlargement  of  Thy 
Church,"  and  that  we  may  all  with  thankful  hearts 
show  forth  Thy  strength  to  this  generation,  and  Thy 
power  to  all  those  that  are  yet  for  to  come,  through 
Him  who  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  forever. 
Praise  ye  the  Lord  !    Hallelujah !  Amen. 

1  Prayer  at  the  Installation  of  the  Deans  and  Canons  of  Westminster. 


THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CON- 
QUEROR, AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 


Christmas  Day,  1866. 

Every  battle  of  the  warrior  is  with  confused  noise,  and  garments 
rolled  in  blood;  but  this  shall  be  with  burning  and_  fuel  of  fire.  For 
unto  us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given.  — Isaiah  ix.  5,  6. 

The  Prophet  in  these  words  goes  back  to  the  famous 
events  of  his  country's  history,  to  the  day  of  Midian,1 
when  Gideon  routed  the  mighty  host,  amidst  the  terrors 
of  a  midnight  panic,  and  amidst  the  carnage  of  the 
Raven's  Rock  and  the  Wolf's  Winepress.  It  was  in- 
deed "  a  battle  of  the  warrior  with  confused  noise,  and 
with  garments  rolled  in  blood."  But  he  then  foretells 
a  time  when  out  of  these  wars  and  tumults  there  should 
come  a  period  of  deep  peace,  when  these  warlike  imple- 
ments should  be  burnt  to  ashes,  according  to  the  prac- 
tice of  ancient  times  which  heaped  sword  and  spear  and 
armor  as  on  a  huge  funeral  pile,  when  the  victory  was 
won,  to  proclaim  that  the  strife  was  over,  that  the  chari- 
ots were  burnt  with  fire,  and  the  spears  broken  asunder.2 
And  he  saw  that  this  peace  would  come,  because  within 
his  own  time  or  hereafter  —  he  knew  not  clearly  which 
—  a  Son,  a  King,  should  be  born,  who  would  be  the 
Prince  of  Peace,  the  founder  of  a  new  and  eternal  king- 
dom, clothed  with  a  majesty  which  should  put  to  silence 
the  contentions  of  men,  and  with  a  power  which  should 

1  Isa.  ix.  4;  Judg.  vii.  22-25.  «  Comp.  Ps.  xlvi.  9. 

39 


40      THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR, 

compress  and  unite  the  most  divergent  elements.  May 
I  on  this  Christmas  Day  take  up  the  Prophet's  thought, 
first  recalling  to  you  an  event  from  our  own  history, 
of  which  this  day  is  the  anniversary,  this  house  of  God 
the  scene,  and  then  drawing  from  it  lessons  congenial 
to  the  Prophet's  teaching  and  to  the  glad  tidings  of  this 
season  ? 

You  may  remember  that  last  year  we  celebrated  on 
the  Feast  of  Innocents'  Dav  the  eight  hundredth  anni- 
versary  of  the  foundation  of  this  Abbe}'  by  the  last  he- 
reditary Saxon  king.  We  have  now  advanced  another 
year,  and  this  day  on  which  I  now  address  you  is  the 
eight  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  first  authentic  coro- 
nation celebrated  in  this  place,  the  coronation  of  William 
the  Conqueror.  That  coronation  is  remarkable,  not  only 
as  being  the  first  in  the  long  series  which  has  since  been 
one  of  the  chief  glories  of  the  Abbey,  but  from  its  own 
intrinsic  interest,  and  from  the  marvellous  lessons  which 
it  conveys  to  us.  I  shall  not  scruple  to  describe  it  to 
you  at  length.  The  great  battle  which  had  decided  the 
fate  of  England  had  been  fought  in  October.  William 
entered  London  as  a  stranger  and  a  conqueror.  But  he 
was  determined  to  mount  the  throne  according  to  all 
the  forms  which  ancient  usage  had  prescribed.  Here, 
therefore,  by  the  grave  of  the  last  Saxon  king,  whose 
heir  he  claimed  to  be,  on  this  Christmas  Da}-,  the  usual 
coronation  day  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  sovereigns,  in  the 
heart  of  what  was  to  be  henceforth,  as  never  before, 
the  capital  of  England,  he  appeared  with  his  courtiers 
and  his  army.  Here,  in  the  newly  finished  Abbey,  he 
took  his  stand  before  the  altar,  beside  King  Edward's 
tomb,  the  huge,  unwieldy,  indomitable  conqueror, 
strange  contrast  to  the  feeble,  gentle,  fantastic  prince 
of  whom  we  spoke  last  year.  Outside  the  church,  to 
guard  him  from  the  attacks  of  his  new  subjects,  were  sta- 


AND  ITS  CON  SEQUENCES. 


41 


tioned  troops  of  Norman  cavalry ;  inside  were  crowded 
together  Norman  nobles  and  Saxon  people.  The  two 
nations,  distinct  from  each  other  as  Frenchmen  and 
Englishmen,  took  an  equal  interest  in  the  event  of  that 
day.  To  each  the  question  was  addressed,  to  the 
Normans  in  French,  by  a  French  prelate,  the  Bishop 
of  Coutance,  to  the  English  in  English,  by  an  English 
prelate,  the  Archbishop  of  York,  whether  they  would 
have  this  king  to  reign  over  them.  Each  returned  a 
shout  of  welcome.  But  the  shout  was  so  loud  and  fierce, 
the  discord  of  the  two  rival  languages  and  nations  so 
harsh,  that  the  Norman  soldiers  without,  hearing  but 
not  understanding  the  uproar,  burst  hi  upon  the  church. 
A  wild  panic,  a  confused  flight,  and  a  bloody  massacre 
followed.  The  Abbey  was  left  almost  empty.  The 
King,  with  the  assistant  clergy,  stood  alone  by  the  altar. 
He,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  was  so  terrified  by  the 
scene,  that  he  remained  trembling  from  head  to  foot  in 
the  extremity  of  fear.  They,  hurrying  as  best  they  could 
through  the  sacred  forms,  poured  the  oil  over  his  face 
and  planted  the  crown  on  his  head ;  and  thus  was  inau- 
gurated the  English  Monarchy,  thus  was  begun  the 
series  of  those  august  ceremonials  which  have  since 
never  ceased  to  be  celebrated  within  these  walls. 

It  was  indeed  "  a  battle  of  the  warrior  with  confused 
noise,  and  with  garments  rolled  in  blood."  Who  could 
have  thought  on  that  day  that  those  discordant  nations 
could  have  ever  been  knit  together ;  that  those  lan- 
guages, so  unintelligible  each  to  each,  should  have  ever 
been  blended  into  one ;  that  the  dynasty,  so  darkly 
enthroned  on  that  seat  of  blood,  could  have  ever  been 
firmly  fixed  in  the  affections  of  the  people?  Yet  so  ic 
has  been,  and  it  is  for  this  reason  that  it  is  no  unwor- 
thy subject  of  contemplation  even  on  this  sacred  day. 
Those  ancient  implements  of  warfare  have  indeed  been 


42      THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR, 


"burned  with  fuel  of  fire  ;"  their  ashes  are  scattered  to 
the  winds.  The  proud  Norman  and  the  humble  Saxon 
are  united  indissolubly  in  one  nation,  the  great  English 
people  ;  the  French  tongue  and  the  English  tongue  are 
welded  together  into  one  speech,  the  great  English  lan- 
guage ;  a  Sovereign,  the  descendant  at  once  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  and  of  his  rival  Edgar  Atheling,  has 
been  seated  on  the  throne  of  Edward  the  Confessor, 
the  centre  of  the  English  Constitution,  the  head  of  the 
British  Empire. 

This  of  itself  is  an  example,  always  encouraging,  of  the 
way  in  which  good  springs  out  of  evil,  and  troubles  sub- 
side, and  peace  returns,  when  its  return  would  have 
been  thought  impossible.  But  in  this  case  there  is 
something  yet  more  consoling.  That  peace,  that  glory, 
that  good,  which  grew  out  of  this  Norman  coronation, 
is  the  natural  result  of  the  original  discordance.  "  Two 
nations,"  we  have  seen,  were  in  the  womb  of  the  Abbey, 
in  the  womb  of  the  Church  and  State  of  England  on 
that  day ;  but  out  of  those  two  nations  came  the  gifts 
which  each  most  wanted  to  make  up  a  perfect  whole. 
Without  the  Norman  conqueror  we  should  have  had  no 
progress  —  without  the  Saxon  subject  we  should  have 
had  no  solidity.  Both  qualities  have  marked  our  history 
ever  since.  We  have  been  a  two-sided,  doubly-gifted 
nation ;  antiquity  and  noveltj'',  liberty  and  authority, 
aristocracy  and  democracy,  have  been  interwoven  with 
our  Constitution  and  with  our  character,  as  you  will 
find  them  nowhere  else  interwoven  in  any  part  of  Eu- 
rope. By  this  means  the  internal  harmonj^  of  our  kingly 
Commonwealth  has  been  preserved,  by  this  means  peace 
and  good-will  have  been  maintained  amongst  us  on  occa- 
sions when  they  have  perished  everywhere  else.  Christ- 
mas Day  to  us  is  not  as  on  that  first  Christmas  Day  in 
the  Abbey,  a  stormy  signal  for  bloodshed,  massacre,  and 


AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 


43 


misunderstanding ;  but  it  comes  home  to  every  part  of 
the  nation  equally,  as  binding  man  to  man,  and  both  to 
God,  equally  with  the  bonds  of  Christian  and  of  Eng- 
lish sympathy.  "  Unto  us,"  even  in  this  lower  sense, 
"a  Child  is  born,  and  He  shall  be  called  the  Prince 
of  Peace." 

I  might  apply  this  even  to  private  quarrels.  I  might 
say  to  two  neighbors  who  are  at  variance^  to  two  friends 
who  have  quarrelled,  and  who  think  that  they  can  never 
be  reconciled,  Do  not  despair ;  you  are  not  more  at 
enmity  than  were  the  Normans  and  Saxons  on  the 
Christmas  Day  of  1066.  "Whatever  may  be  the  differ- 
ences which  divide  you  each  from  each,  they  may  in 
like  manner  change  and  fade  away.  The  old  pagan 
philosopher  used  to  say,  "  Look  upon  your  friends  with 
the  thought  that  they  may  one  day  prove  j'our  enemies." 
The  Christian  philosopher  says  (and  it  is  certainly  one 
lesson  from  the  Norman  Conquest),  "  Look  upon  your 
enemies  with  the  thought  that  they  may  one  day  prove 
your  friends."  Look  upon  them  with  the  experience 
which  this  day  furnishes.  Think  that  the  Norman  may 
be  one  day  blended  with  the  Saxon.  Think  that  the 
Saxon  will  one  day  bless  the  Norman. 

But  may  I  go  a  step  farther,  and  point  out  how  this 
double  element,  which  has  pervaded,  without  destroy- 
ing, the  English  Nation,  has  also  pervaded,  without 
destroying,  the  English  Church?  Two  nations,  two 
parties,  two  tendencies,  have  from  the  first  been  in  her 
womb  also.  They  have  been  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, for  the  very  reason  that  it  is  the  Church  "  of  Eng- 
land." The  Church  of  England  is  a  mixed  and  double 
Church,  because  England  is  a  mixed  and  double  nation. 
If  it  were  not  so,  it  would  not  be  the  national  Church. 
At  this  moment  of  conflict  between  two  great  sections 
in  the  Church,  it  is  but  the  same  which  has  been  again 


44      THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR, 

and  again  in  the  State,  in  the  language,  in  the  Consti- 
tution of  our  country.  Look  at  the  words  of  the  first 
Exhortation  in  the  Liturgy.  It  is  half  Norman,  half 
English.  It  is  composed  of  the  same  two  elements  of 
speech  that  resounded  in  such  fearful  discord  through 
the  Abbey  on  the  day  of  the  first  coronation  :  "  acknowl- 
edge," is  Saxon;  "confess,"  is  French;  "meet  to- 
gether," is  Saxon ;  "  assemble,"  is  French  ;  "  humble," 
is  French;  "lowly,"  is  Saxon;  "goodness,"  is  Saxon; 
"  mercy,"  is  French.  Even  by  these  trivial  signs  let  us 
be  reminded  that  the  battle  of  the  warrior  and  the  gar- 
ments rolled  in  blood  have  been  forever  burnt  with 
fire,  and  melted  down  into  one  harmonious  language. 

But  no  less,  as  we  go  through  the  Prayer-book,  and 
find  expressions  which  sometimes  suit  one  frame  of  feel- 
ing, and  sometimes  another,  let  us  not  be  offended  by 
them ;  let  us  not  distort  them  ;  let  us  acknowledge  that 
each  gives  our  opponents  (if  so  we  choose  to  call  them) 
an  advantage ;  but  let  us  see  in  them  also  a  blessed 
continuation  of  the  same  unity  which  has  elsewhere 
with  us  overcome  the  difference  of  race  and  language. 

Some  of  us  may  lament  that  one  set  of  expressions 
should  have  been  left,  which  savors  of  the  old  super- 
stitions of  the  Church  before  the  Reformation.  Others 
may  lament  that  expressions  have  been  admitted  quite 
contrary  to  these,  breathing  only  the  rational  or  the 
spiritual  atmosphere  of  modern  times.  But  neverthe- 
less these  expressions  have  existed  together,  and  the 
two  parties  may  exist  together ;  and  the  only  real 
breach  of  Christian  faith  and  Christian  charity  is  when 
each  insists  on  having  the  Church  and  nation  to  itself, 
when  each  endeavors  to  cast  out  the  other. 

Take  even  that  question  which  has  so  much  agitated 
many  minds  at  this  lime  —  the  divergence  of  opinion 
respecting  the  blessed  Communion  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 


AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 


45 


in  which  we  are  this  day  to  partake.  Ever  since  the 
Reformation,  there  have  been  two  opposite  tendencies, 
two  opposite  frames  of  thought  on  the  subject.  Some, 
with  the  Church  of  Rome  and  the  German  Reformer, 
Luther,  have  found  pleasure  in  figuring  to  themselves 
"  a  real  presence,"  a  special  nearness  to  Christ  in  the 
outward  tokens  of  bread  and  wine,  even  identifying 
these  tokens  with  Himself,  even  feeling  as  though  they 
handled  Him  with  their  hands,  and  saw  Him  with  their 
eyes.  On  the  other  side,  there  have  been  those  who, 
with  the  Swiss  Reformer  Zuinglius  and  the  great  mass 
of  the  Reformed  Churches,  have  found  pleasure  rather 
in  believing  that  their  Saviour's  Presence  was  in  the 
heart  and  in  the  spirit,  within  and  not  without,  spiritual 
like  Himself,  brought  near  to  us  by  remembrance,  by 
love,  by  reason,  by  faith,  not  by  the  mere  outward  act, 
or  the  mere  outward  ceremony.  These  two  tendencies 
have  prevailed  in  this  or  that  mind,  according  to  the 
natural  turn  which  disposition  or  circumstance  has 
given  ;  and  have  prevailed,  with  all  the  innumerable 
shades  of  intervening  opinion  and  feeling,  from  the  very 
outset  of  the  Reformation  down  to  the  present  day. 
They  have  left  the  traces  of  their  conflict  in  the  very 
words  with  which  the  sacred  elements  are  administered. 
At  the  first  beginning  of  the  English  Liturgy,  jxist 
emerging  from  the  old  Church  and  its  peculiar  forms, 
the  words  were  with  us,  as  in  the  Churches  of  Rome 
and  of  Luther,  "The  Body  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
preserve  thy  body  and  soul  unto  everlasting  life." 1 
When  the  Reformation  had  advanced  farther,  and  the 
Church  of  England  had  become  entirely  a  Reformed 
Church,  these  words  were  omitted,  and  in  their  place 
were  substituted,  "  Take  and  eat  this  in  remembrance 
that  Christ  died  for  thee,  and  feed  on  Him  in  thy  heart 

1  In  the  First  Prayer-book  of  Edward  VI.,  1549. 


46      THE  CORONATION  OF  "WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR, 


by  faith,  with  thanksgiving."  1  When,  after  the  acces- 
sion of  Elizabeth,  it  was  desired  by  her  and  her  wise 
counsellors  to  make  the  Church  as  comprehensive  and 
as  national  as  possible,  the  two  forms  were  united  to- 
gether.2 And  so  they  have  continued  till  our  own  day, 
a  pledge  and  token  to  us,  that  the  true  policy  of  the 
Church  of  England,  may  we  not  say  of  the  Church  of 
Christ,  is  not  to  exclude  entirely  either  of  these  feelings, 
but  to  blend  them  together,  and  in  that  most  solemn 
act  of  Christian  fellowship  to  feel  ourselves  not  two, 
but  one  people.  Man}*  a  time,  on  this  and  on  a  thou- 
sand other  questions,  has  each  party  striven  to  drive  the 
other  out.  Each  for  the  moment  has  partially  suc- 
ceeded :  each  has  succeeded  to  its  own  great  loss  ;  each 
has  done  that  which  would  have  been  done,  had  the 
Xormans  at  the  first  coronation  succeeded  in  stamping 
out  the  Saxons  forever,  or  the  Saxons  forever  repelled 
all  contact  with  the  growth  and  progress  of  the  Nor- 
mans. But  the  spirit  of  the  English  nation,  the  spirit 
of  the  English  Church  — may  we  humbly  say,  the  Spirit 
of  Christ  our  Lord  in  the  better  spirits  of  both  Church 
and  nation?  was  too  strong  for  the  violence  of  any 
single  party.  Oh  may  it  be  so  still !  May  we  still,  both 
as  a  nation  and  a  Church,  deserve  the  glorious  reproach 
of  keeping  together  those  who  elsewhere  have  been 
divided  asunder  !  May  we  cherish  the  blessed  privilege 
of  holding  social  intercourse,  maintaining  Christian 
communion,  between  those  who  in  other  days,  per- 
haps even  in  our  own,  would  deny  and  excommunicate 
each  other  !  Prove  and  show  as  much  as  we  will,  and 
as  much  as  we  can,  the  folly,  the  exaggeration,  the  dis- 
proportion, the  futility  of  the  views  which  we  think 
wrong.    But  still  remember  that  there  is  a  worse  evil 

1  In  the  Second  Prayer-book  of  Edward  VI.,  1552. 
s  In  the  Prayer-book  of  Elizabeth,  1559. 


AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 


47 


than  error,  and  that  is,  injustice  towards  those  in  whom 
the  error  exists.  Remember  that,  if  our  adversaries 
have  labored  with  untiring  zeal  to  drive  us  out,  the 
true  Christian  retaliation  is  for  us  to  labor  with  untir- 
ing forbearance  to  keep  them  in.  The  true  weapons  by 
which  to  put  down  error  are  argument,  reason,  knowl- 
edge ;  the  true  armor  by  which  error  can  best  be 
repelled  is  love  of  truth,  candor,  charity. 

To  other  times  and  to  other  countries  belong  "  the 
battle  of  the  warrior,  with  confused  noise,  and  garments 
rolled  in  blood,"  the  sword  and  stake,  the  rage  for  ver- 
bal distinctions,  the  ceaseless  desire  to  find  causes  of 
division,  partiality,  and  strife.  To  ours  belongs,  or 
ought  to  belong,  the  ceaseless  desire  to  burn  up  these 
causes  with  fuel  of  heavenly  fire.  To  us  belongs,  or 
ought  to  belong,  the  determination  to  "  have  the  faith 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  without  respect  of  persons," 
to  bear  with  the  practices  in  which  we  cannot  partici- 
pate, even  whilst  most  strongly  condemning  them  ;  pro- 
viding only  that  they  are  not  forced  on  those  who  wish 
not  for  them,  that  they  have  liberty  of  conscience  for 
themselves,  not  dominion  over  the  faith  of  others.  To 
us  belongs  the  heaven-born  trust,  that  with  the  fire  of 
zeal  about  the  greater  matters  of  the  law,  justice,  mercy, 
and  truth,  those  lesser  things  of  hay,  straw,  stubble, 
will  be  burnt  up  and  destroyed.  To  us  belongs  the 
hope  of  a  true  Christian  peace,  founded  not  on  artificial 
fusions  of  outward  form,  or  ill-assorted  unions  of  eccle- 
siastical organization,  but  on  the  greatness  of  God's 
love,  and  on  the  greatness  of  man's  duty.  "  For  unto 
us  a  Child  is  born,  unto  us  a  Son  is  given,"  who  will 
unite  us  together,  if  we  cleave  to  Him  with  heart  and 
soul,  for  this  very  reason,  that  He  is  greater  than  any 
of  the  sects  or  Churches  which  call  themselves  by  His 
name.    "  He  came  "  —  I  quote  words,  far  better  than 


48      THE  CORONATION  OF  WILLIAM  THE  CONQUEROR, 

my  own,  of  an  English  historian  educated  in  this  place 
—  "  He  came,  bringing  with  Him  the  knowledge  that 
God  is  a  Being  of  infinite  goodness ;  that  the  service 
required  of  mankind  is  not  a  service  of  form  or  cere- 
mony, but  a  service  of  obedience  and  love,  obedience 
to  the  laws  of  morality,  and  love  and  charity  towards 
man.  The  God  made  known  in  Christ  demanded  of 
His  children  no  other  sacrifice  than  the  sacrifice  of 
their  own  wills,  and  for  each  act  of  love  and  self-for- 
getfulness  bestowed  on  them  the  peace  of  mind  which 
passed  understanding. 

"Such  a  Gospel,  had  it  remained  as  it  came  from  its 
Founder,"  —  nay,  if  even  now  we  can  return  to  it,  — 
"  would  have  changed,"  may  yet  change  "  the  aspect  of 
the  earth.  It  would  have  knit  together,"  it  may  yet 
knit  together  "in  one  common  purpose,  all  the  good, 
all  the  generous,  all  the  noble-minded,  whose  precepts, 
whose  example  would  serve  as  a  guide  to  their  weaker 
brethren.  It  would  not  have  quarrelled  over  words 
and  forms.  .  It  would  have  accepted  the  righteous  act, 
whether  the  doer  of  it  preferred  Paul  or  Cephas.  In 
that  religion,  if  ever  it  is  fully  believed,  hatred  would 
have  no  place,  for  love,  which  is  hate's  opposite,  is  its 
principle.  The  essence  of  it  is  something  which  is  held 
alike  by  Catholic  and  by  Protestant,  by  Lutheran  and 
Calvinist." 1 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  Christmas  with  its  high 
glory  to  God  is  also  the  time  of  peace  and  good-will  to 
earth.  The  greatness  of  God  is  the  true  rebuke  to  the 
littleness  of  men.  The  greatness  of  Christ  is  the  true 
rebuke  to  the  littleness  of  Christians.  The  war  of 
words  and  names  and  forms  sinks  into  nothing  in 
His  presence,  because  in  Him  there  is  neither  Jew 
nor  Greek,  Norman  nor  Saxon,  circumcision  nor  un- 

l  Fronde's  History  of  England,  vol.  ix.  p.  300. 


AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 


49 


circumcision,  ritualism  nor  anti-ritualism,  rationalism 
nor  anti-rationalism ;  because  He  is  not  Paul,  nor 
Apollos,  nor  Cephas,  but  infinite  Grace,  and  Purity, 
and  Truth ;  because  He  is,  above  and  through  all  these 
things,  "the  mighty  God,  the  everlasting  Father,  the 
Prince  of  Peace." 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.1 


Easter  Day,  18G7  and  1873. 

On  the  first  day  of  the  week,  very  early  in  the  morning,  they  came 
unto  the  sepulchre,  bringing  the  spices  which  they  had  prepared;  and 
they  found  the  stone  rolled  away  from  the  sepulchre. — Luke  x_xiv.  1,  2. 

On  this  Easter  Day,  when  we  once  more  open  to  view 
the  accustomed  place  of  our  Holy  Communion,  on  which 
so  much  care  and  labor  have  been  spent,  these  words 
seem  not  unsuited  to  express  our  thoughts.  They  came, 
that  faithful  band,  to  pay  their  tribute  of  affection  and 
respect  to  the  place  where  the  Lord  was  laid  ;  they  came, 
as  one  of  their  number  had  come  before,  with  an  alabas- 

1  The  Communion  Table  or  Altar  of  Westminster  Abbey  has  had  a 
long  and  varied  history.  In  the  first  Abbey,  as  built  by  Edward  the 
Confessor,  it  stood  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  church..  In  the 
Abbey,  as  rebuilt  by  Henry  III.,  it  stood  where  it  has  remained  ever 
since,  in  front  of  the  Confessor's  shrine.  Of  this  Altar  the  only  remnant 
now  existing  is  the  richly-painted  frontal,  discovered  by  accident  some 
years  ago,  and  now  in  the  south  aisle  of  the  church.  In  the  fifteenth 
century  the  screen  was  erected  behind  the  Altar,  shutting  off  the  shrine 
of  Edward  the  Confessor  from  it,  as  was  common  at  that  epoch.  Of  this 
screen  or  reredos  the  eastward  or  hinder  face  still  remains,  with  the 
legendary  life  of  the  Confessor  carved  on  its  frieze.  The  westward 
front  has  long  ago  perished,  and  has  been  since  replaced,  first,  by  the 
marble  altarpiece  of  the  time  of  Queen  Anne  ;  next,  when  this  was  re- 
moved in  1824,  by  a  plaster  screen,  intended  in  some  degree  to  imitate 
the  ancient  forms;  and  this  was  finally  replaced  within  the  last  ten 
years  by  the  present  reredos,  which  was  erected  under  the  direction  of 
Sir  Gilbert  Scott.  The  Communion  Table,  which  now  stands  in  the 
position  which  it  has  occupied  since  the  Restoration,  is  of  cedar  wood, 
carved  by  Messrs.  Farmer  and  Erindley.  The  frieze  of  the  reredos  con- 
sists of  sculptures  -if  the  history  of  our  Lord,  corresponding  to  that  of 
the  life  of  Edward  the  Confessor  on  the  other  side.  The  space  beneath 
50 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  51 


ter  box  of  ointment  of  spikenard  very  precious,  as  she 
beforehand  to  anoint  His  body  for  the  tomb,  so  they 
to  anoint  and  guard  it  afterwards.  They  knew  weli 
the  sacred  spot ;  they  knew  the  little  garden,  outside 
the  city  walls ;  they  knew  the  rocky  hill,  out  of  whose 
ancient  face  was  hewn  the  sepulchre  wherein  never  man 
before  was  laid  ;  they  knew  its  deep  recesses  ;  they  had 
seen  the  clean  linen  cloth  infolding  the  frame,  and  the 
napkin  wrapped  about  the  head ;  they  had  watched  the 
huge  stone  door  drawn  across  the  mouth  of  the  cavern ; 
and  now,  as  the  first  light  of  the  sun  broke  over  the 
dark  summit  of  the  Mount  of  Olives,  they  approached 
the  tomb  once  more  with  their  charge  of  aromatic  stores, 
to  honor  the  memory  of  Him  whom  they  had  lost. 

It  was  the  natural  reverence  of  the  human  heart  for 
great  recollections  and  sacred  places,  it  was  the  natural 
reverence  of  the  Christian  heart  for  all  that  belongs  even 
to  the  outward  service  of  our  Divine  Redeemer.  This 
reverence  is  not  itself  religion  ;  far  from  it.    Even  the 

is  filled  by  a  large  mosaic,  from  a  design  of  Messrs.  Clayton  and  Bell, 
representing  the  Last  Supper.  On  each  side  of  this  are  four  statues 
—  which,  as  well  as  the  frieze,  were  executed  by  Mr.  Armstead.  In  the 
centre  are  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  the  two  Apostles  to  whom  the  Abbey 
is  dedicated,  representing  the  two  divergent  tendencies  of  Christianity; 
on  the  north  is  Moses,  as  the  Lawgiver,  looking  towards  the  north  tran- 
sept, which  contains  the  tombs  of  the  statesmen;  and,  on  the  south, 
David,  as  the  Royal  Psalmist,  looking  towards  the  south  transept,  as 
containing  the  tombs  of  the  poets.  Of  these  statues  and  their  meaning 
an  account  is  given  in  the  sermon  on  "  The  Religious  Aspects  of  Sculp- 
ture." The  porphyry  which  furnished  the  three  circular  slabs  in  front 
of  the  Altar  was  brought  from  the  East  by  Lord  Elgin  at  the  same  time 
as  the  Elgin  marbles,  and  was  presented  to  the  Abbey  by  his  grandson 
in  1870.  The  last  additions  were  the  gilded  canopies  above  the  mosaic 
picture,  and  underneath  it  heads  of  the  holy  women  of  Scripture  — 
Ruth,  Anna,  Elisabeth,  the  Virgin  Mary,  Mary  Magdalene,  Martha, 
and  Dorcas.  The  whole  work  was  completed  on  Easter  Day,  1873;  its 
earlier  portion  had  been  completed  on  Easter  Day,  1867,  and  the  sub- 
Stance  of  the  present  sermon  was  preached  on  both  those  occasions,  in 
the  presence  of  those  who  had  been  concerned  in  the  sculpture,  carving, 
and  arrangement  of  the  whole. 


52 


THE  ALTAR  OF  "WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


Holy  Sepulchre,  -which  they  thus  came  to  adorn,  has 
been  the  cause  of  some  of  the  most  cruel  wars,  and  the 
scene  of  some  of  the  most  senseless  discords,  that  have 
ever  disgraced  the  Christian  name.  "When  the  Angelic 
voice  invited  the  women  on  the  morning  of  Easter  Day 
M  to  come  and  see  the  place  where  the  Lord  lay,"  their 
thoughts  were  immediately  directed  upwards.  "  He  is 
not  here  ;  He  is  risen."  Still,  with  this  reservation  the 
feeling  is  permitted  —  it  is  the  common  instinct  of  man- 
kind, it  is  part  of  the  natural  gospel  (so  to  speak)  of 
Him  who  took  our  nature  upon  Him. 

I  propose  therefore  to  set  forth  some  of  the  reasons 
which  give  a  special  significance  to  the  glorification  01 
our  Altar. 

It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  the  history  of  the 
sacrament  of  the  Eucharist  might  be  made  a  history  of 
the  Christian  Church.  So  it  might  be  almost  said  that 
the  history  of  the  Holy  Table  in  this  Abbey  might  be 
made  a  history  of  the  English  Church.  The  original 
form  and  position  of  the  Table  of  the  early  Christians 
had  long  passed  away  before  the  erection  of  our  first 
altar.  It  stood  at  the  extreme  east  end  of  the  build- 
ing, thus  representing  the  period  when  the  primitive 
idea  of  the  early  church  had  been  effaced,  but  before 
the  more  complex  doctrine  and  structure  of  the  Middle 
Ages  had  arisen.  Then  came  the  period  from  the 
Plantagenets  to  the  time  of  the  House  of  Lancaster, 
during  which  it  was  brought  to  the  almost  central 
position  that  it  now  occupies,  recalling  something  of  the 
original  arrangement  of  the  Basilica ;  but  entangled 
with  the  various  forms  of  strange  devotion  with  which 
those  ages  abounded.  Then,  as  these  fantastic  forms 
multiplied,  there  sprang  up  the  screen,  which  parted 
it  from  the  Eastern  chapels,  and  divided  asunder  the 
building,  as  with  a  wall  of  partition,  unknown  to  ear- 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  53 

Her  times,  forming,  after  the  manner  of  that  perplexed 
age,  church  within  church,  division  within  division,  in 
ever  narrower  circles.  Then  descended  the  tempest 
of  the  Reformation,  scattering  right  and  left  the  an- 
cient figures  that  stood  around,  and  planting  in  the 
place  of  the  old  altar  the  plain  wooden  movable  table, 
in  imitation  of  the  original  primitive  usage,  sometimes 
standing  where  it  now  stands,  sometimes  in  the  midst 
of  the  church.  Next,  in  the  reign  of  Anne,  when  the 
arts  took  a  new  turn,  when  the  classical  dome  of  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral  was  rising  from  its  ruins,  and  our  own 
Western  Towers  were  added  by  the  hand  of  the  great 
architect  of  that  period,  were  raised  the  sculpture  and 
painting  —  highly  esteemed  in  that  age,  and  lasting 
down  to  times  within  our  own  memory  in  the  begin- 
ning of  this  century,  when  they  too  vanished  before 
the  first  faint  revival  of  mediseval  antiquarianism. 
Each  of  these  changes  coincided  with  the  development 
of  fresh  thoughts  and  fresh  feelings  in  the  Christian 
Church,  each  containing  much  that  each  succeeding  age 
lamented,  whilst  receiving  the  footprint  of  new  ideas 
through  the  changing  periods  of  the  history  of  our 
Church  and  nation.  Each,  were  this  the  time  to  en- 
large upon  it,  has  some  peculiar  lesson  of  its  own.  But 
there  is  this  lesson  belonging  to  them  all.  —  We  some- 
times think  that  it  is  the  Transitory  alone  which 
changes,  the  Eternal  which  stands  still.  Rather  it  is 
the  reverse.  The  Transitory  stands  still,  decays,  falls 
to  pieces.  The  Eternal,  though  changing  its  outward 
form  again  and  again,  endures.  It  is  therefore,  as  we 
might  have  expected,  that  whilst  the  subordinate  parts 
of  the  church  have  remained  comparatively  unchanged, 
or  changed  only  by  the  mouldering  lapse  of  time,  this, 
the  most  sacred  part,  has  continually  kept  pace  with 
the  altered  feeling  of  each  succeeding  period.  Those 


54  THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


memorials  of  mortal  men,  as  the  Apostle  freely  spoke 
of  the  patriarch  David,  are  dead  and  buried ;  after 
they  had  served  their  own  generation  they  fell  asleep, 
and  were  laid  with  their  fathers,  and  saw  corruption 
and  decay.  But  He  whom  God  raised  again  saw  no 
corruption.  The  memorial  of  His  life  and  death  has 
been  changed  it  may  be  according  to  the  poor  con- 
trivances of  men,  but  remains  still  alive,  and  kept  alive 
by  its  inherent  vitality. 

The  everlasting  mountains  are  everlasting,  not  be- 
cause they  are  unchanged,  but  because  they  go  on 
changing  their  form,  their  substance,  with  the  wear  and 
tear  of  ages.  "  The  Everlasting  Gospel "  is  everlast- 
ing, not  because  it  remains  stationary,  but  because, 
being  the  same,  it  can  adapt  itself  to  the  constant 
changes  of  society,  of  civilization,  of  humanity  itself. 
Such  a  new  step  we  have  now  again  made,  in  accord- 
ance with  the  feelings  of  our  own  generation ;  and  we 
would  take  occasion  of  it  to  ask,  What  are  the  rea- 
sons why,  according  to  the  principles  of  our  Church, 
and  according  to  the  natural  instincts  of  Christendom, 
this  Holy  Table  should  be  the  chief  point  of  attraction 
and  interest  in  this  our  ancient  and  splendid  sanctuary? 

I.  It  is  the  Lord's  Table. 

Whatever  else  is  the  purpose  of  that  sacrament  which 
we  here  celebrate,  its  main  object  is  to  bring  before  us 
Christ  our  Saviour.  Other  consecrated  spots  there  may 
have  been  in  this  church,  other  objects  of  reverence, 
which,  from  time  to  time,  have  attracted  deeper  atten- 
tion. There  have  been  times  when  the  main  interest 
of  the  congregation  was  centred  on  the  tomb  or  shrine, 
now  of  this  king,  now  of  that  —  now  of  this  illustrious 
hero,  now  of  that ;  or,  again,  when  the  preacher  was 
more  regarded  than  any  other  part  of  the  service,  and 
every  eye  and  ear  hung  on  the  pulpit ;  or,  again,  when 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


55 


the  throne  of  our  sovereigns  has  been  the  centre  of  all 
the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  the  vast  assemblage  gath- 
ered in  these  walls.  But  in  our  ordinary  worship  this 
is  not  so ;  the  Holy  Table  must  always  be  the  chief 
object  of  our  interest,  for  this  simple  reason,  that  it 
brings  before  us  Christ  the  Lord,  and  no  one  else. 

Take  away  the  belief  in  Christ,  and  all  meaning  van- 
ishes from  this  spot ;  take  away  this  sacred  table,  and 
there  will  remain  no  other  outward  object  in  the  church 
which  specially  reminds  us  of  Christ  —  the  Lord  in  the 
fulness  of  His  Spirit  —  the  Lord,  not  in  any  one  aspect 
of  His  appearance,  but  in  the  whole  of  it.  To  grasp 
the  entire  spiritual  truth  of  Christ's  manifestation,  to 
make  it  the  food  of  our  souls,  and  the  strength  of  our 
minds,  is  the  justification  of  this  sacred  ordinance,  is 
the  glorification  of  this  sacred  place.  This  is  the  true 
secret  of  the  mysterious  power  of  the  ordinance  of  the 
Lord's  Supper,  that  more  than  prayer,  more  than  medi- 
tation, more  than  any  other  single  holy  act  or  word,  it 
brings  us  into  close  communion  with  the  Divine  Person, 
whom  truly  to  know  is  life  eternal. 

It  is  He  who  invites  us  to  come.  No  Man,  no  Priest, 
no  Church,  steps  between  us  and  Him.  It  is  the  Lord's 
Table,  not  the  table  of  any  particular  school  or  minister; 
each  communicant  draws  near  on  his  own  responsibility, 
for  his  own  good,  on  the  dictates  of  his  own  conscience. 
Our  Table  is  not  fenced  by  any  artificial  discipline. 
It  is  not  guarded  by  any  fantastic  scruples.  Whosoever 
cometh  to  it,  and  to  Him  whose  Table  it  is,  "  earnestly 
repenting  of  his  sins,  in  love  and  charity  with  his  neigh- 
bors, and  intending  to  lead  a  new  life  " —  shall  in  no 
wise  be  cast  out  by  the  wise  and  merciful  Saviour  whose 
strength  he  seeks  to  gain.  And  this  remembrance  of 
the  pre-eminent  greatness  of  Christ  our  Saviour,  dear  to 
Christians  everywhere,  ought  to  be  specially  precious 


56 


THE  ALTAK  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


to  Christians  and  to  Englishmen  in  this  church.  Here, 
w  here  we  not  only  live,  but  worship  in  the  midst  of  so 
many  recollections  of  a  stirring  past,  so  many  thoughts 
of  a  stirring  present,  it  is  doubly  needful  to  have  con- 
stantly kept  before  us  that  there  is  One  Xarne,  which  is 
above  every  name,  One  Master  in  whose  presence  no 
one  else  is  master,  One  whose  faith  we  hold  without  re- 
spect of  persons,  One  whose  Spirit,  rightly  understood, 
is  the  source  of  all  the  strength,  and  freedom,  and  light, 
which  makes  our  country  great  and  glorious,  One  whose 
Cross  is  a  rebuke  to  all  our  selfishness,  and  ignorance, 
and  narrowness.  Look  at  these  marbles  and  colors; 
and  when,  as  after  the  Passage  of  the  Jordan,  }our 
children  shall  ask  their  fathers,  now  or  in  time  to  come, 
"  what  mean  those  stones  "  of  porphyry  and  alabaster, 
those  golden  canopies,  those  glittering  mosaics,  then 
shall  you  let  your  children  know  that  they  tell  us  of 
the  glory  of  Christ  our  Lord,  that  is,  of  the  glory  of 
Justice  and  Truth,  Purity  and  Love  ;  the  glory  of  the 
love  of  God  to  man,  the  glory  of  the  love  of  man  to 
God.  It  reminds  us  that  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth 
which  have  their  throne  and  seat  in  this  place  are  be- 
come the  kingdoms  of  the  Lord  and  of  His  Christ.  It 
reminds  us  that  communion  with  Him  and  following  in 
His  footsteps  is  the  highest  blessing  that  can  be  sought 
for  any  worshipper  under  this  roof,  from  the  Queen  to 
the  peasant. 

II.  It  is  the  Lord's  Table.  That  word  recalls  to  our 
minds  at  once  what  is  the  special  act  of  His  life  which 
it  commemorates.  It  is  His  farewell  to  His  disciples  — 
it  is  the  fact  that  in  that  last  farewell,  He  blessed  to 
their  use,  and  sanctified  by  His  blessing,  common  bread 
and  common  wine,  our  ordinary  fare.  It  is  the  constant 
memorial  that  Religion  and  Common  Life  are  mixed 
together,  one  and  indivisible ;  that  our  common  joys 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


57 


and  sorrows,  the  joys  of  social  intercourse,  the  sorrows 
of  parting  and  bereavement,  are  all  sanctified  by  our 
Christian  hopes  and  fears. 

The  Table ;  its  very  name  and  shape  and  material 
remind  us  of  that  simple  repast  in  the  upper  chamber 
at  Jerusalem.  So  it  was  always  called  in  the  early  ages, 
so  it  is  still  called  in  the  Eastern  Churches,  so  it  is 
always  called  in  our  own  Prayer-book.  In  itself  we 
need  care  little  of  what  it  is  made  —  wood  or  stone,  or 
gold  or  brass ;  yet  assuredly,  if  for  a  moment  one  may 
dwell  on  such  a  mere  outward  detail,  it  is  interesting  to 
remember  that  wood,  the  usual  material  of  our  ordinary 
tables,  was  the  material  from  the  earliest  times,  in  East 
and  West,  of  our  holy  Tables  also  ;  that  such,  too,  after 
a  long  interval,  it  again  became  at  the  Reformation ; 
and  that  such  in  the  midst  of  all  these  brilliant  sur- 
roundings it  is  still  in  this  place.  Our  richly-adorned 
Table  is  the  successor  of  the  plain  board  which  served 
for  the  Last  Supper  at  Jerusalem,  of  the  rough  planks 
which  still  at  Rome  represent  what  is  believed  to  be  the 
holiest  and  most  venerable  Altar  in  the  City  of  St. 
Peter,  of  the  simple  oaken  table  which,  from  the 
Reformation  almost  down  to  the  present  century,  stood 
in  this  place.  Despise  not  the  name,  or  the  thing,  or 
the  form  ;  the  more  we  remember  how  homely  it  was  in 
its  origin,  how  primitive  in  its  outward  shape  and  fash- 
ion, the  more  does  it  deserve  to  be  honored  as  the  monu- 
ment of  the  most  sacred  and  pathetic  parts  of  the 
Christian  story.  It  is  the  fittest  memorial  of  Him, 
whose  home  was  the  home  of  the  humble  workman,  the 
carpenter  Joseph,  of  Him  who  was  Himself  a  carpenter, 
laboring  with  the  toil  of  an  Eastern  workman,  under 
the  hot  sun  of  the  East,  till  the  day's  work  was  over, 
of  Him  who  adorned  by  the  first  miracle  that  He 
wrought  the  festive  gathering  at  Cana,  who.  declar.ed 


58  THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

His  acts  of  mercy  chiefly  by  His  feeding  the  hungry 
multitudes,  who  was  known  to  His  disciples  chiefly  by 
the  breaking  of  bread,  by  the  sacred  meal  in  which 
He  parted  from  them,  by  the  sacred  meal  in  which  He 
met  them  again  in  the  joy  of  His  Resurrection.  They 
who  kneel  before  it,  who  receive  from  it  the  strength 
which  its  sacred  ordinance  gives,  will  remember  that  its 
holy  and  elevating  power  depends  on  its  homely  signifi- 
cance —  the  Table  of  all  our  common  tables,  as  the  Bible 
is  the  Book  of  books. 

III.  Another  name  by  which  we  call  the  Lord's  Table 
in  common  speech  is  the  Communion  Table.  This 
name,  though  not  expressly  sanctioned  by  the  law  of 
the  Church,  indicates  a  peculiar  truth  of  which  we 
sometimes  lose  sight.  "  The  bread  which  we  break," 
says  the  Apostle,  "is  it  not  a  communion"  —  that  is,  a 
joint  partaking  —  "of  the  body  of  Christ?  The  cup 
of  blessing  which  we  drink,  is  it  not  a  communion  " 
—  a  joint  partaking —  "  of  the  blood  of  Christ  ?  "  The 
whole  force  of  the  word  and  of  the  Apostle's  argument, 
is  that  it  is  a  communion  with  each  other,  through  our 
joint,  common,  mutual  partaking  of  the  same  bread  and 
the  same  cup.  Round  that  Table,  we  become  one  with 
each  other,  because  we  become  one  in  Christ.  And 
here,  again,  the  original  position  of  the  Table  in  all  the 
older  churches  of  Christendom  was  a  testimony  to  this 
solemn  truth.  In  all  the  churches,  where  the  ancient 
arrangements  have  been  preserved,  the  Table  stands  not 
at  the  Eastern  extremity  of  the  church,  but  in  the  cen- 
tre ;  the  clergy  on  one  side,  and  the  congregation  on 
the  other ;  literally  in  the  midst  of  the  whole  congrega- 
tion. So  also  it  was  placed  in  all  common  English 
churches  for  the  first  century  after  the  Reformation. 
So  also  during  some  portions  at  least  of  that  period  it 
was  in  this  Abbey.    But  even  before  that  time,  in  fact, 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER.  ABBEY. 


59 


since  the  thirteenth  century,  it  has,  owing  to  the  pecu- 
liar conformation  of  the  building,  been  far  more  nearly 
in  the  midst  of  the  church,  than  in  most  cathedrals; 
and,  though  this  arose  from  other  causes,  3-et  when  we 
look  at  it  in  its  present  position,  with  the  long  vista 
extending  behind  it  eastward,  and  before  it  westward, 
wc  may  remark  that  this  central  situation  represents  to 
Uo  the  original  idea  of  the  primitive  Eucharist,  the  cen- 
tre of  the  whole  Christian  worship ;  the  meeting-point, 
as  of  old,  between  the  clergy  and  the  laity,  so  here, 
between  the  past  and  the  present,  between  the  dead  and 
the  living  ;  the  dark  shades  which  lie  in  solitary  chapels 
and  mouldering  tombs,  behind  it;  —  the  living  stir  of 
human  souls,  spreading  to  the  right  and  left,  before  it. 
In  this  sense  may  the  blessed  Sacrament,  which  is  here 
administered,  be  forever  a  bond  of  union  between  all 
the  different  classes  of  our  countrymen — between  the 
thoughts  which  belong  to  ages  past  and  gone,  and  the 
thoughts  which  belong  to  ages  present  and  to  come ! 
It  is  the  pledge  and  sign  of  the  duty  of  carrying  on,  as 
best  we  can,  this  great  Christian  Society  which  we  have 
inherited ;  every  grade  of  social  life,  every  mode  of 
thought,  every  temper  and  disposition  continuing  to 
help  forward  every  other  in  the  cause  of  good. 

IV.  We  are  thus  brought  to  one  other  word  which 
we  apply  in  common  language  to  the  Holy  Table  —  the 
Altar.  This  is  a  title  which,  unlike  the  others  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking,  has  no  direct  warrant  from 
Scripture,  from  the  primitive  Church,  or  from  the 
Prayer-book.  The  name  "  Altar  "  is  not  applied  to  the 
Holy  Table  in  any  part  of  the  New  Testament,  or  in 
any  author  of  the  first  three  centuries  (with  perhaps 
two  doubtful  exceptions),  or  in  any  part  of  the  Prayer- 
book.  But  it  is  so  commonly  employed,  that  we  may 
well  ask  whether  there  is  not  a  sense  in  which  it  may, 


60 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


after  all,  be  lawfully  used.  If  the  name  may  be  any- 
where lawfully  used,  it  is  here.  In  the  Coronation 
Service  which  has  the  authority  of  the  Privy  Council 
of  the  Sovereign,  and  which  is  used  within  these  walls 
and  nowhere  else,  our  Table  is  called  "  an  Altar."  This 
one  exception,  therefore,  will  justify  us  in  considering 
in  what  sense  the  word  "  Altar,"  according  to  common 
usage,  may  be  employed  for  our  Sacred  Table,  what 
additional  reason  is  hereby  given  for  its  embellishment 
and  glorification. 

"  An  Altar  "  means  a  place  where  Sacrifice  is  offered. 
Is  there  any  sense  in  which  the  Bible  and  the  Prayer- 
book  acknowledge  the  offering  of  Sacrifice  at  our  Holy 
Table?  There  is  one  passage,  most  impressive  and 
most  important  in  our  Communion  Service,  and  one 
alone,  in  which  the  word  "  Sacrifice  "  is  so  used.  It  is 
that  prayer  in  which,  after  the  Communion,  we  offer  to 
God  "  the  reasonable,  holy,  and  living  sacrifice  of  our- 
selves, our  souls  and  bodies,"  to  be  accepted,  notwith- 
standing our  manifold  unworthiness,  "  as  our  bounden 
duty  and  service." 

This  is  the  true  Christian  Sacrifice,  which  may  well 
entitle  any  place  where  we  offer  it  to  be  called  an  Altar. 
This  Sacrifice,  not  made  by  the  Priest  or  Minister,  but 
by  the  People,  this  offering  not  of  dead  or  dumb  mate- 
rials, but  of  living,  spiritual  beings,  this  pledging  of 
ourselves  to  our  Master's  service,  is  that  which  specially 
belongs  to  the  Holy  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper, 
and  which  may  make  the  spot  at  which  we  offer  it  to 
be,  in  an  especial  sense,  the  true  Altar  of  the  Chris- 
tian's worship. 

And  well  may  it  thus  be  called  in  the  one  service  of 
our  Church,  where,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  so  called  —  in 
that  great  solemnity  in  which  the  Sovereign  is  pledged 
to  maintain  the  welfare  of  the  people  and  the  faith  of 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


61 


Christ  in  this  sacred  ordinance.  That  is  indeed  the 
Sacrifice  of  the  prayers  and  praises  of  a  whole  nation, 
the  Sacrifice  of  the  highest  life  in  this  Church  and  realm 
to  the  good  of  man  and  to  the  glory  of  God. 

And  how  much  is  the  solemnity  of  this  Sacrifice  of 
ourselves  enhanced,  when  we  make  it  on  the  same  spot 
and  in  the  same  ordinance,  as  brings  before  us  the  great 
Sacrifice  of  Christ  our  Saviour !  That  Sacrifice  is  fin- 
ished ;  it  is  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  in  itself ;  it  be- 
longs to  the  past ;  it  lives  only  in  our  grateful  memory, 
or  in  its  lasting  consequences.  But,  in  the  sense  in 
which  I  have  been  speaking,  it  can,  and  ought,  in  its 
measure,  to  be  repeated,  by  ourselves,  that  is,  by  the 
Christian  congregation,  every  time  that  we  approach 
the  Sacred  Table.  The  Holy  Sacrament  is  the  holy 
"oath  "  or  pledge  of  Christian  soldiers  to  their  heavenly 
Captain.  Each  one  as  he  kneels  there,  with  all  the 
past  mercies  of  God  full  in  his  remembrance,  and  all  his 
present  and  future  duties  full  in  view,  declares  himself 
ready  to  follow  in  the  steps  of  the  great  Self-sacrificer. 
"  Each  1  one,  when  he  hears  the  words,  This  is  My  body 
which  is  given  for  you,  do  this  in  remembrance  of  me, 
declares  himself  as  answering,  Yea,  Lord,  I  am  ready 
in  remembrance  of  Thee  to  give  also  myself  for  the 
advance  of  Thy  kingdom.  Each  one  as  he  hears  the 
words,  This  is  My  blood  which  is  shed  for  you  and  for 
many  for  the  remission  of  sins,  ought  to  make  the  an- 
swer in  his  heart,  Yea,  Lord,  I  am  ready  to  shed  my 
blood  also,  if  thereby  the  sins  of  many  may  be  blotted 
out." 

So  viewed,  the  Holy  Table  does  indeed  become  an 
Altar  in  the  grandest  and  highest  sense,  for  it  combines 
within  itself  the  memory  of  the  historical  Sacrifice  of 

1  These  words  are  taken  from  a  highly  instructive  passage  in  Wil- 
son's Dampton  Lectures  on  the  Cojnrnunion  of  Saints. 


62  THE  ALTAR  OF  "WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 

Christ  long  ago,  and  the  perpetuation  of  the  moral  and 
spiritual  Sacrifice  of  Christians  now.  "Hereby  per- 
ceive we  the  love  of  God  because  He  laid  down  His 
life  for  us,  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the 
brethren." 

And  there  is  yet  one  other  Sacrifice,, mentioned  in 
the  same  prayer  in  the  Communion  Service,  which  I 
reserve  for  the  last,  because  with  this  I  will  conclude  — 
our  Sacrifice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  This  is  the 
true  Eucharistic  Sacrifice.  "Eucharist"  is  thanksgiv- 
ing. "  It  is  meet  and  right,  and  our  bounden  duty,  to 
give  thanks  to  God  at  all  times  and  in  all  places,  but 
chiefly  "  in  this  sacred  ordinance,  when  we  commemo- 
rate the  innumerable  benefits  of  Christ's  death  and  pas- 
sion ;  chiefly  on  this  day,  when  we  have  brought  to  its 
desired  completion  the  work  which  has  been  wrought 
out  with  such  loving  care  by  those  who  planned  and  by 
those  who  executed  it.  They  who,  month  by  month, 
and  week  by  week,  have  watched  its  rise,  and  raised  it 
like  a  tender  plant,  whose  hands  have  made  and  fash- 
ioned its  delicate  work  and  traced  its  gracious  forms, 
they  who  in  their  different  stations,  and  with  their  (lif- 
erent crafts,  have  labored  with  exceeding  toil  to  bring 
it  to  its  final  completion  —  they  may  well  offer  to  God 
their  grateful  thanks  for  having  been  permitted  to  bring 
to  a  successful  issue  the  work  which  they  may  well  call 
their  own.  In  it  their  name  and  fame,  their  labor  and 
their  skill  are  enshrined  as  a  gift  to  God.  "  We,  God's 
humble  servants,  entirely  desire  His  fatherly  goodness 
to  accept  these  "  as  our  oblation,  our  Easter  offering. 
"  The  earth  is  the  Lord's  and  the  fulness  thereof ; " 
every  thing  that  there  is  of  beauty  in  sculpture,  poetry, 
painting,  or  architecture,  every  thing  that  there  is  of 
skill  in  mechanical  contrivance,  has  its  religious  side, 
has  the  link,  if  it  can  be  found,  which  binds  it  round 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  63 

the  throne  of  God  and  the  gates  of  heaven.  The  ala- 
baster from  our  Midland  quarries,  the  marble  from  our 
Cornish  rocks,  the  mosaic  colors  from  the  isles  of  Ven- 
ice, the  porphyry  from  the  shores  of  the  Nile  or  of  the 
Bosphorus,  the  jewels  from  the  far-off  coasts  of  Asia 
and  America,  combine  as  truly  now  in  the  service  of 
Him,  who  has  "  given  us  the  heathen  for  our  possession, 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  our  inheritance," 
as  did  the  gold  of  Ophir  and  the  sandalwood  of  India 
for  the  temple  of  Solomon.  It  has  been  our  endeavor 
not  to  destroy  the  old,  but  to  retain  from  every  age 
that  which  can  still  be  used  for  good,  and  to  add  only 
that  which  was  required  by  our  increased  insight  into 
Divine  Truth,  our  increased  growth  of  human  knowl- 
edge. Our  forefathers  did  what  they  could  in  former 
times,  according  to  their  light ;  we  have  done  what  we 
could  in  our  day  according  to  our  light.  It  is  the 
privilege  of  our  time  that  we  can  admire  the  shell, 
without  believing  it  to  be  the  kernel ;  and  that  we  can, 
whilst  we  cherish  the  form,  retain  the  spirit.  The 
truest  worshipper  is  he  who,  whilst  he  does  not  despise 
the  accompaniments  of  earthly  beauty,  remembers  that 
appreciation  of  the  past  may  be  combined  with  hope 
for  the  future ;  that  art  may  be  made  to  minister,  not 
only  to  the  lower  objects  of  religious  reverence,  but  to 
the  worship  of  the  One  Supreme  Good  and  the  One 
Supreme  Truth ;  that  the  spiritual  and  inward  is  a 
thousand  times  more  precious  than  the  material  and 
the  outward,  and  that  the  simplicity  and  sincerity  of 
our  service  is  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  any 
decoration  however  gorgeous,  or  any  form  however 
graceful. 

It  is  the  last  change  which  this  our  sanctuary  has 
witnessed,  the  last  probably  that  this  generation  will 
witness.    Let  us  hope  that  every  sacrament  celebrated 


64 


THE  ALTAR  OF  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


under  its  newlj'-raised  tabernacle  may  become  more 
and  more  what  every  spiritual  communion,  and  every 
spiritual  sacrifice,  ought  to  be  —  a  sacrament,  or  ordi- 
nance, in  which  the  outer  form  is  less  and  less  thought 
of,  and  the  inner  spirit  more  and  more.  Let  us  hope 
and  pray  that  the  centre  of  this  Abbey,  thus  adorned 
and  thus  beautified,  thus  bringing  before  us  in  all  its 
grace  and  simplicity  that  which  is  the  centre  of  all 
Christian  doctrine  —  the  life  and  death  of  Christ  — 
may  become  the  focus  and  spring  of  Christian  light 
and  life  to  the  ever-multiplying  population  around  us. 
Let  us  hope  and  pray  that  every  marriage  of  which 
that  Altar  witnesses  the  celebration,  may  grow  more 
and  more  into  the  fulness  of  an  English  and  a  Chris- 
tian home.  Let  us  hope  and  pray  that  when  in  far 
distant  years,  in  each  succeeding  reign,  the  Crown  of 
England  is  taken  from  that  Table  to  be  placed  on  the 
Sovereign's  head,  every  time  that  the  throne  is  placed 
before  it  to  receive  the  new  occupant,  every  time  that 
the  blessing  of  Christ  in  His  holy  ordinance  is  thus  in- 
voked on  this  our  kingl}*  Commonwealth  —  let  us  hope 
that  the  happiness  and  peace  of  our  Church  and  king- 
dom may  spread  wider  and  deeper,  as  from  a  more  glo- 
rious centre,  as  from  a  purer  spring,  as  from  a  higher 
source.  "  Lift  up  j-our  heads,  O  ye  gates  of  future 
times,  and  be  )'e  lift  up,  ye  everlasting  doors  of  the 
greatness  of  England,  of  the  opportunities  of  Christen- 
dom, and  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in."  Who  is 
the  King  of  Glory?  It  is  the  Lord  strong  and  mighty, 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battles,  the  Lord  who  has  been  vic- 
torious in  a  thousand  battles  over  sin  and  evil  in  all 
their  forms;  who  in  the  great  battle-fields  of  the  world 
has  put  down  our  ancient  foes  of  slavery  and  supersti- 
tion, and  cruel  tortures,  and  oppressive  tyranny,  and 
who  will  put  down  no  less  our  present  and  future  foes 


THE  ALTAR  OP  "WESTMINSTER  ABBEY.  65 

—  indifference,  intolerance,  drunkenness,  anarchy,  re- 
spect of  persons,  party  spirit,  and  luxurious  selfishness. 

It  is  the  Lord  of  hosts,  the  Lord  of  all  the  armies  and 
all  the  soldiers  who  ever  have  fought,  and  ever  will  fight 
for  the  cause  of  God  ;  the  Lord  of  the  beneficent  ruler 
and  of  the  enlightened  statesman,  of  the  heaven-inspired 
poet  and  of  the  skilful  artist ;  the  Lord  no  less  of  the 
humble  and  faithful  servant,  of  the  artisan  honest  in  his 
calling,  of  the  father,  husband,  son,  and  brother,  strug- 
gling each  in  his  own  vocation,  to  build  up  a  pure  and 
happy  home  —  the  Lord  of  those  Warriors  and  Priests 
of  the  ancient  faith,  who  served  the  old  Altar  which  has 
passed  away,  no  less  than  of  those  Pastors  and  Teachers 
who  shall  have  ministered  at  the  new  Table  which  has 
risen  in  its  place.  The  Lord  of  hosts,  He  is  the  King 
of  Glory,  of  a  glory  which  belongs  to  every  deed  and 
thought  of  secret  goodness,  to  every  humble  striving 
after  truth  —  the  glory  which  we,  whether  "  beholding  " 
or  reflecting  "  as  in  a  glass,  are  changed  to  the  same 
image  from  glory  into  glory  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord." 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 


Easter  Day,  1871,  on  the  occasion  of  the  erection  of  four  statues  in 
the  reredos  of  Westminster  Abbey. 

In  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  round  about  the  throne,  were  four 
"living  creatures,"  .  .  .  and  they  rest  not  day  and  night,  saying,  Holy, 
holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty,  which  teas,  and  is,  and  is  to  come ;  and 
they  give  glory  and  honor  and  thanlcs  to  Him  that  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
who  liceth  for  ever  and  ever.  —  Rev.  iv.  6-8. 

This  is  part  of  the  vision  of  the  Apocalypse,  which  is 
intended  to  express,  in  imagery  taken  from  the  outer 
and  lower  world,  the  worship  which  all  creation  offers 
up  to  its  heavenly  Lord.  The  four  figures  which  thus 
appear  around  the  throne  are  described  as  having  the 
strength  of  the  ox,  the  majesty  of  the  lion,  the  swiftness 
of  the  eagle,  and  the  intelligence  of  the  man.  The 
word  which  is  translated  "beast"  in  the  Authorized 
Version  is  properly  rendered  "  living  creature,"  as  the 
corresponding  Hebrew  word  is  in  the  Prophet  Ezekiel 
(reserving  the  word  "  beast "  for  a  totally  different 
phrase  which  occurs  in  the  later  chapters  to  designate 
the  monsters  of  the  deep).  The  expression  "living 
creatures "  is  well  chosen  to  indicate  that  all  created 
life  is  intended  to  be  included  in  the  act  of  adoration. 
The  vividness  of  these  words  well  suits  the  expression 
of  thankfulness  for  God's  mercies  which  the  festival  of 
Easter  calls  forth.  May  I  be  allowed  also  to  take  them 
as  bearing  on  the  illustration  of  this  same  truth,  by 
the  erection  of  the  Four  Statues  which  have  just  been 
placed  in  the  vacant  niches  of  this  sanctuary  ? 

66 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE.  67 


I.  In  the  first  place,  this  vision  of  the  Apocalypse  is 
a  sanction  of  the  faculty  which  we  call,  from  this  power 
of  creating  images,  by  the  name  of  "•imagination." 

(1.)  These  figures  described  in  the  Apocalypse  have 
(as  we  know  well)  no  actual  existence  in  the  courts  of 
heaven.  But  they  none  the  less  bear  witness  to  the 
truth  that  such  forms  are  warranted  under  the  Gospel. 
The  letter  of  the  second  commandment,  prohibiting  the 
making  of  any  graven  image,  had  already  been  aban- 
doned, when  in  Solomon's  temple  the  art  of  the  sculptor 
had  graven  the  figures  which  adorned  its  cedar  walls 
and  supported  its  brazen  laver.1  But  the  abundant  use 
of  like  images,  both  in  the  older  prophets  and  in  the 
Apocalypse,  not  indeed  by  the  hand  of  the  inspired 
artist,  but  by  the  words  of  the  inspired  poet,  has  car- 
ried on  the  principle  into  detail.  The  stern  simplicity 
of  the  old  Mosaic  law  belongs  to  the  time  when  "  the 
hardness  of  the  heart "  of  the  ancient  people  could  not 
in  any  other  way  be  kept  from  idolatry.  But  this  stern 
necessity  gave  way,  as  in  other  matters,  so  in  this,  be- 
fore what  St.  Paul  calls  "  the  riches,"  the  wealth,  the 
abundance  of  new  thoughts  and  new  resources  in  the 
human  mind  opened  by  Christianity.  From  this  time 
poetry,  painting,  music,  and  sculpture  have  poured  in  a 
flood  of  sacred  imagery  on  the  world.  Sometimes,  no 
doubt,  this  has  been  abused ;  sometimes  it  has  been  per- 
verted to  false  science,  false  taste,  and  false  religion. 
But  in  proportion  to  its  perfection  it  has  ministered  to 
the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  Christian  sentiment ;  and 
a  wise  man  has  well  remarked  that  it  is  not  the  perfec- 
tion, but  the  rudeness  of  the  art  which  leads  to  super- 
stition.2   The  veneration  of  outward  objects  is  often 

1  Josephus,  Ant.,  viii.  7,  §  5.  See  Lectures  on  the  Jewish  Church,  VOL 
ii.  pp.  220,  222. 

2  See  Milman's  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  ii.  152,  153. 


68 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 


more  debasing  in  the  East,  where  all  sculpture  is  for- 
bidden, than  in  the  West,  where  it  has  been  encouraged. 
There  is  often  a  superstition  quite  as  gross  in  iconoclasm 
as  there  is  in  idolatry  ;  and  it  is  by  an  intelligent,  Prot- 
estant, Christian  use  of  all  the  arts,  whether  of  the  musi 
cian,  the  p.ainter,  or  the  sculptor,  that  this  abuse  is  best 
prevented.  Therefore  it  is  that,  whilst  there  is  hardly 
a  corner  in  this  Abbey  where  the  ancient  Israelite  or 
the  modern  Mussulman  would  not  be  shocked  at  the 
representation  of  living  creatures,  as  if  in  violation  of 
the  commandment  that  forbade  the  erection  of  graven 
images,  it  is  also  true  that  every  one  of  those  countless 
statues,  whether  of  statesman  or  poet,  whether  of  alle- 
gorical figure  or  actual  human  being,  is  a  witness  to  the 
true  liberty  of  the  Gospel  which  has  broken  loose  from 
the  bondage  of  the  law,  and  uses  freely  every  faculty 
wherewith  God  has  endowed  the  human  soul ;  and  every 
such  figure  that  lives  again  beneath  the  sculptor's  hand 
joins,  as  it  were,  in  the  never-ending,  never-ceasing  cry 
of  all  creation  —  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord  God  Almighty, 
that  is,  and  was,  and  is  to  come."  They  proclaim,  or 
ought  to  proclaim,  the  nobleness  and  the  purity  of  "  the 
human  face  divine,"  which  bears  on  its  front  the  image 
and  superscription  of  the  Almighty,  the  marvellous 
workmanship  of  that  human  frame  which  is  "  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  made  ;  "  they  record  for  after  ages  the 
head  that  planned,  and  the  eye  that  saw,  and  the  hand 
that  wrote,  and  the  mouth  that  spake,  all  those  burning 
words  and  melting  thoughts  by  which  this  State  and 
Church  have  been  kept  revolving  round  the  Eternal 
throne. 

(2.)  May  we  not  also  say  that  this  same  glorious  art 
is  an  illustration,  almost  an  example,  of  that  great  truth 
of  Life  and  Immortality  which  the  festival  of  Easter 
commemorates  ?    Those  who  have  seen  the  workshop 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE.  69 

of  a  statuary  will  enter  into  the  famous  saying  of  one 
of  the  greatest  of  modern  sculptors  (Canova),  that  "  a 
statue  is  bom  when  it  is  produced  in  clay,  that  it  dies 
when  it  is  reproduced  in  plaster,  that  it  rises  again 
when  it  is  finally  reproduced  in  marble."  That  is 
exactly  what  ought  to  make  every  such  labor  of  the 
sculptor,  both  to  him  who  works  and  to  him  who  sees 
it,  a  type  and  likeness  of  the  transforming  changes 
wrought  in  our  outward  frame  and  inward  character  by 
the  Great  Artificer  whose  workmanship  we  are. 

There  is  the  clay,  the  soft  ductile  clay,  as  in  the 
hands  of  the  potter,  as  in  the  time  when  "  day  by  day 
our  members  were  fashioned  when  as  yet  there  were 
none  of  them,"  when  our  characters  were  not  yet 
formed,  but  were  being  moulded  by  the  force  of  circum- 
stance or  companionship,  or  human  genius,  or  divine 
grace,  just  as  the  clay  of  the  statue  by  the  finger  of  the 
artist  —  here  an  addition,  there  a  subtraction  —  is  re- 
newed daily,  we  might  almost  say  born  again,  under  the 
pressure  of  his  watchful  care. 

There  too  is  the  cold  dull  outline,  when  life  has  van- 
ished, when  the  shroud  is  around  us,  when  there  remains 
nothing  but  the  fragile,  featureless  form,  as  in  the  dead 
lifeless  plaster. 

And,  lastly,  there  is  the  Resurrection.  Out  of  the 
block  of  marble,  as  if  they  had  been  buried  within  it, 
come  forth  at  the  successive  strokes  of  the  chisel,  the 
bright,  ideal  face,  and  outstretched  hand,  and  firm  foot, 
by  efforts  which  are  indeed  likenesses  of  that  trans- 
formation described  to  us  by  St.  Paul,  when  he  tells  us 
how  the  "  corruptible  shall  put  on  incorruption,  and  the 
mortal  shall  put  on  immortality."  And  the  marble  fig- 
ure which  so  emerges  is  a  pledge  —  faint  and  remote,  per- 
haps, yet  still  not  to  be  despised  —  of  the  undying  force 
of  the  human  spirit,  which  thus  outlasts  the  violence  of 


70  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 


revolutions  and  the  slow  decay  of  time.  If  we  look  on 
the  face  of  one  whom  we  ourselves  have  known  thus 
*'  immortalized,"  as  we  say,  by  the  sculptor's  art,  if  yet 
further  we  see  the  face  of  one  that  we  have  never  seen 
at  all,  brought  near  to  us,  looking  out  of  the  years  that 
are  past  and  gone,  if  we  see  this,  not  only  in  the  case 
of  those  who  have  lived  within  our  own  time  and 
country,  but  in  ages  long  buried,  and  in  countries  far 
removed  ;  if  we  see  the  Caesars  on  their  pedestals  at 
Rome,  or  the  yet  more  distant  Pharaohs  in  the  sands  of 
Egypt,  not  hundreds  but  thousands  of  years  ago  ;  yet 
more,  if  we  see  those  of  whose  form  and  figure  we 
know  nothing,  but  for  whose  disembodied  spirits  the 
skill  and  genius  of  later  times  have  furnished  forth  an 
outward  frame  to  enshrine  the  ideal  of  what  we  think 
they  must  have  been  —  then  indeed  we  feel  that  there 
is  something  in  the  human  mind  triumphant  over  mat- 
ter, that  there  is  even  on  earth  a  victory  stolen  from  the 
grave,  and  a  sting  from  death ;  we  feel  that  after  the 
natural  earthly  body  has  perished  there  may  well  be  a 
spiritual  ideal  body  for  each  human  soul,  "  one  glory 
for  one,  and  another  for  another  "  —  that  God,  out  of 
His  infinite  treasure-house,  may  well  give  to  each  a  new 
form  and  existence,  "as  it  shall  please  Him." 

(3.)  We  learn  thus  to  appreciate  the  bright  future, 
the  lofty  ideal  of  human  nature  and  of  human  destiny. 
It  is  of  little  matter  to  us  whence  we  have  descended, 
out  of  what  materials  our  first  ancestors  were  created, 
even  though  it  be,  as  the  Bible  tells  us,  from  "  the  very 
dust  of  the  ground."  But  it  is  of  infinite  moment  to 
us  to  feel,  to  know  what  we  actually  are,  what  the  high 
capacities  we  possess,  what  the  great  responsibilities 
which  rest  upon  us,  what  the  eternal  destiny  which  may 
be  in  store  for  us.  It  is  for  this  that  every  noble  exer- 
eise  of  the  faculties  which  God  has  given  us,  every  con* 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 


71 


scientious  work,  in  which  we  labor  to  produce  some- 
thing which  shall  outlast  ourselves  or  our  generation, 
is  a  gift  as  from  immortal  spirits  to  an  Immortal  Spirit. 
"God  is  not  a  God  of  the  dead,  but  of  the  living." 
Those  bright  ideas,  those  finer  qualities  of  the  human 
soul  which  art  labors  to  perpetuate,  and  which  science 
delights  to  explore,  are  the  pledges  that  God  will  not 
despise  the  works  of  His  hands,  that  we  shall  live  on, 
in  spite  of  death  and  time. 

II.  Such  is  the  general  lesson  of  the  contemplation 
of  the  creation  of  man,  and  of  the  efforts  of  Christian 
art  to  perpetuate  its  glories. 

And  now  let  us  briefly  describe  the  special  ideas  in- 
tended to  be  conveyed  by  the  Four  Living  Creatures — 
the  four  gifted  human  beings  —  whose  images  have  just 
been  erected  around  the  Holy  Table. 

They  represent  four  characteristics  of  the  human 
race  in  its  highest  perfection,  which  seemed  the  fittest 
homage  to  be  paid  in  this  place  to  our  Creator  and 
Redeemer.1 

The  two  figures  which  stand  in  the  centre  are  the 
two  chief  Apostles,  always  united  in  primitive  art,  as 
they  are  in  the  Bible  itself. 

The  one  on  the  right  of  the  Table  is  St.  Peter,  to 
whom,  from  the  special  predilection  of  our  Founder, 
this  Church  was  dedicated.  He  represents  the  solid 
rock,  the  outward  framework,  on  which  and  in  which 
the  Church  was  built  —  its  ancient,  universal,  catholic 
aspect.  He  stands  erect  like  a  pillar  of  the  fabric ; 
the  keys  of  government  are  in  his  hands,  and  on  his 
book  are  written  those  words  of  universal  comprehen- 

1  The  new  statues  here  described,  the  work  of  Mr.  Armstead,  are 
placed  in  the  vacant  niches  above  the  Communion  Table,  on  each  side 
of  the  mosaic  picture  of  the  Last  Supper,  and  underneath  the  frieze 
representing  the  events  of  the  Gospel  history. 


72  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 

sion  by  which  he  opened,  as  with  a  golden  key,  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  to  the  whole  race  of  man,  —  "  Gtod 
is  no  respecter  of  persons." 

By  his  side  is  St.  Paul,  who,  on  the  other  hand,  rep- 
resents the  fervor,  the  life,  the  freedom  of  the  Church, 
to  which  St.  Peter  gave  the  outward  framework.  He 
stands  with  outstretched  hand,  as  on  Mars'  Hill  at 
Athens,  as  on  the  Temple  stairs  at  Jerusalem,  or  before 
Agrippa  at  Caesarea —  the  great  teacher,  the  fiery 
preacher  ;  and  he  grasps  the  sword  by  which  he  suffered 
martyrdom,  but  which  is  also  the  emblem  of  the  word 
that  he  preached,  "quick,  and  powerful,  and  sharper 
than  any  two-edged  sword,  piercing  even  to  the  divid- 
ing asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,"  u  rightly  dividing  the 
word  of  truth,"  in  those  weighty  epistles  on  which  is 
inscribed  the  corresponding  name  of  "  the  sword  of  the 
Spirit." 

These  are  the  two  great  human  forces  of  our  religion 
—  which,  in  their  widest  form,  are  called  Christendom 
and  Christianity  —  the  vast  outward  framework  and 
the  moving  inward  spirit.  All  that  constitutes  the 
true  strength  of  the  ancient  Catholic  Church  in  Peter, 
all  that  constitutes  the  true  strength  of  the  Reformed 
Churches  in  Paul,  is  represented  in  them.  Lovely  and 
pleasant  were  the  two  Apostles  in  their  lives,  and  in 
their  deaths  they  were  not  divided.  Truly  do  they 
here  bring  before  us  the  union  of  the  old  and  the  new, 
the  depth  and  the  breadth,  which  is  the  glory  of  all 
Christian  worship  and  of  all  Christian  faith. 

And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  farther  right  and  to  the 
farther  left.  On  the  right  of  Peter  is  the  great  law- 
giver of  the  old  dispensation,  who  by  the  early  Christians 
was  regarded  as  his  forerunner  —  Moses,  the  founder 
of  the  Jewish  Commonwealth,  as  Peter  of  the  Christian 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE.  73 

Church.  There  he  stands,  as  he  came  down  from  Mount 
Sinai,  bearing  in  his  hands  the  tables  on  which  are 
written  the  first  words  of  the  Ten  Commandments ; 
and  in  him  we  see  the  representative  of  the  general  idea 
of  statesmanship  and  law.  He  gathers  up  in  his  person 
the  memories  of  our  own  famous  statesmen,  buried  in 
the  North  aisle  of  the  Church,  towards  which  he  looks 
—  lawgivers,  rulers  of  the  people,  pillars  of  the  State, 
who  are  in  the  world  at  large  what  Peter  and  Peter's 
true  spiritual  successors  have  been  in  the  Church. 

On  the  other  side,  corresponding  to  St.  Paul,  is  the 
greatest  teacher  of  the  Jewish  Church  —  David,  the 
royal  poet  and  prophet,  who,  by  the  lofty  spirit,  the  eter- 
nal truths,  of  his  Psalter  has  sanctified,  for  every  age, 
the  philosophy,  the  learning,  the  poetry  of  fill  mankind. 
As  Moses  looks  towards  our  buried  statesmen,  so  David 
stands  beside  our  buried'  poets.  As  Moses  combines 
with  Peter  to  represent  the  solid  forces  which  bind 
together  the  commonwealths  and  churches  of  the  earth, 
so  David  combines  with  Paul  to  represent  the  ethereal 
grace,  the  prophetic  zeal,  the  poetic  fire,  which  still, 
through  a  thousand  voices,  breathe  the  ancient  "  Hal- 
lelujah" first  adequately  expressed  by  the  strains  of  his 
harp,  on  which  it  is  inscribed. 

These  are  the  Four  Living  Creatures  which  have 
been  thought  worthy  to  stand  round  the  central  figure 
of  our  departing  Master,  the  four  elements  of  life, 
which  are  the  fitting  emblems  of  the  purposes  of  this 
sacred  building  —  the  all-embracing  order,  the  all-awak- 
ening energy,  which  give  life  to  the  Church,  the  sus- 
taining force  of  heaven-sent  law,  the  informing  force  of 
inspired  genius,  which  give  life  to  the  world.  We  can- 
not spare  any  of  them  from  our  earthly  existence.  Let 
us  remember  them  in  our  spiritual  worship.    Let  us,  as 


74  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  SCULPTURE. 


we  see  them  thus  exalted,  remember  that  they  all,  and 
we  with  them,  have  the  same  divine  function  of  giving 
"  glory  and  honor  and  thanks  to  Him  that  sits  on  the 
throne,  who  liveth  for  ever  and  ever"  —  to  Him  "who 
was  dead  and  is  alive  for  evermore." 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


June  28, 1868,  the  anniversary  of  the  Queen's  coronation,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  public  thanksgiving  for  the  escape  of  H.R.H.  the  Duke 
of  Edinburgh  and  for  the  success  of  the  Abyssinian  War. 

Speak ,  Lord ;  for  Thy  servant  heareth.  —  1  Sam.  iii.  9.1 

So  spoke  the  youthful  Prophet  and  ruler  after  he  had 
thrice  heard  the  Divine  call.  It  was  in  the  darkness 
of  the  early  morning;  the  seven-branched  candlestick 
alone  lighted  up  the  curtains  of  the  Tabernacle.  There 
knelt  the  innocent  child,  as  we  see  him  pictured  by  the 
greatest  of  English  painters ;  his  little  hands  clasped  in 
prayer ;  his  bright  eyes  looking  upwards  towards  a 
light  which  none  but  he  could  see,  towards  a  voice 
which  none  but  he  could  hear  —  the  likeness  of  that 
touching  sight  which  every  parent  knows  who  sees  his 
little  ones  first  beginning  to  falter  their  infant  prayers, 
and  murmur  their  infant  hymns. 

But  the  same  truth  which  is  taught  us  by  the  sight  of 
our  children  at  their  prayers  —  all  attention,  all  recep- 
tion —  by  the  story  of  the  young  Hebrew  Prophet  thus 
receiving  deep  into  his  soul  the  first  of  that  long  succes- 
sion of  prophetic  revelations,  is  forced  upon  us  by  the 
more  impressive  events  of  the  lives,  whether  of  nations 
or  of  individuals.  Again  and  again  a  call  is  made  to  us, 
as  distinct,  if  we  would  but  listen  to  it,  as  that  which 
came  to  Samuel.  A  call  to  duty,  a  call  to  thankfulness, 
a  call  to  better  and  serious  thoughts ;  and  what  is 

1  First  Lesson  of  the  Evening  Service. 

75 


76 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


needed  is  that  we  should  be  able  to  say,  "  Speak,  Lord ; 
for  Thy  servant  heareth."  That  is  the  difficulty. 
The  whirl  of  business,  the  succession  of  enjoyments,  the 
clatter  of  voices  around  us,  the  strife  of  parties,  the 
drowsiness  of  indolence,  the  blindness  of  passion,  the 
deafness  of  prejudice  —  all  these  distract  our  attention, 
shut  our  eyes,  close  our  ears.  It  is  this  need  of  a  pause, 
of  a  lull,  which  makes  it  good  for  us  to  have  our 
thoughts  arrested  and  diverted  by  any  marked  anniver- 
sary, by  any  solemn  remembrance  of  public  events,  by 
any  stirring  incident  in  our  own  experience.  A  silence 
then  falls  around  us ;  a  still  small  voice  can  then  make 
itself  audible.  The  Lord  speaks ;  and  for  the  moment 
our  ears  are  open  to  hear  His  call. 

Such  a  call,  in  more  ways  than  one,  this  day  brings 
to  us. 

I.  It  is  now  just  thirty  years  since  this  Abbey  was 
the  scene  of  the  most  splendid  and  moving  spectacle 
that  our  generation  has  witnessed.  It  was  on  the  28th 
of  June,  1838,  that  the  nobles,  commons,  and  clergy  of 
England  were  gathered  within  these  walls  to  welcome 
to  the  throne  a  Sovereign,  whose  youthful  promise  and 
queenly  grace  awakened  again  a  flame  of  loyal  devotion, 
a  spring  of  serious  hope,  such  as  was  thought  to  have 
well-nigh  died  out  from  amongst  us.  To  her,  on  that 
bright  summer  day,  came  the  awful,  yet  inspiring  sum- 
mons to  preside  wisely  and  justly  over  the  great  people 
here  represented  around  her.  And  to  the  nation  at 
large,  not  only  in  this  Abbey,  or  in  this  metropolis,  but 
in  many  a  rustic  church,  and  in  many  a  retired  village, 
throughout  the  Empire,  was  brought  home  the  feeling 
that  we  were  one  people  and  one  family,  with  one  heart 
and  one  soul,  bound  together  to  promote  each  other's 
welfare,  and  to  lift  our  thoughts  upwards  to  whatsoever 
things  were  true  and  honest,  just  and  pure,  lovely  and 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


77 


of  good  report.  It  was  this  common  feeling  of  national 
unity  and  national  duty  —  this  electric  sentiment  with 
which  the  whole  air  was  charged,  that  gave  a  deeper 
meaning  to  every  word  of  that  solemn  ceremony,  a  fresh 
significance  to  every  splendor  of  that  grand  pageant. 
The  Queen  was  in  the  midst  of  her  people  ;  each  on  that 
day  was  given  to  each ;  a  new  era  seemed  to  open  for 
each ;  an  era  of  new  happiness  and  usefulness  for  the 
one,  of  new  glory  and  greatness  for  the  other  —  of  Chris- 
tian progress  towards  perfection  for  both. 

Thirty  years  have  passed  away,  thirty  years  of  how 
much  loss  and  of  how  much  gain  to  all  of  us !  How 
many  have  been  snatched  away  from  the  home,  or 
Church,  or  State,  or  Throne  of  which  they  were  the 
stay  and  support.  How  many  have  been  the  noble 
opportunities  passed  by,  how  many  the  good  deeds  not 
attempted  until  it  was,  or  seemed  to  be,  too  late !  And 
yet  how  much  also  has  been  added  to  us  ;  how  happily 
round  that  royal  seat  have  risen  up  the  children,  and 
the  children's  children  of  the  future  dynasty  ;  how  much 
of  pure  renown  has  been  added  to  the  English  name  in 
peace  and  war ;  how  many  a  noble  Christian  deed  has 
lighted  up  far  and  wide  the  dark  corners  of  our  land ! 
In  the  mere  thought  of  these  vicissitudes  —  in  the  grate- 
ful remembrance  of  what  has  been  done  for  us,  of  evils 
extinguished  which,  we  trust,  shall  never  reappear,  of 
good  accomplished  which,  we  trust,  shall  never  be  re- 
versed —  in  the  bitter  grief  for  good  which  might  have 
been  done  and  has  been  left  undone  —  in  the  enkind- 
ling hope  of  all  the  splendid  and  useful  and  holy  works 
that  still  remain  to  be  done  —  in  all  these  thoughts  the 
call  is  repeated  this  day  ;  and  may  each  of  us,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  renew  that  covenant  which  then 
was  made,  and  say,  "  Speak,  Lord ;  for  Thy  servant 
heareth."    The  nation  has  advanced  fast  and  far  on  its 


78 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


way ;  the  nineteenth  century  itself  is  moving  towards 
its  close.  It  is  for  each  one  of  us  to  keep  pace  with  it, 
to  feel  that  on  each  and  all  of  us  depends  the  right 
direction  of  that  onward  journey.  "  Speak,  Lord ;  "  let 
us  hear  and  understand  Thy  will ;  we  are  indeed  all 
ears  to  hear,  and  all  eyes  to  see,  if  Thou  wilt  but  guide 
us  rightly. 

II.  And  now  there  come  to  us  two  special  calls  again, 
from  most  different  quarters,  awakening  most  different 
feelings,  yet  still  pointing  to  the  same  end  ;  calls  from 
the  uttermost  extremities  of  the  earth,  which  reached 
our  shores  within  the  same  twenty-four  hours,  and  which 
by  this  very  coincidence  made  us  feel  the  vastness  and 
variety  of  the  sphere,  the  loftiness  and  breadth  of  the 
task,  which  Englishmen  have  before  them. 

Let  us  ask  what  is  the  call  conveyed  to  us  in  each  of 
the  two  events,  for  which  we  are  invited  to  express  our 
thankfulness  to  Almighty  God,  and  which  are  thus  hap- 
pily combined  on  this  auspicious  day.  In  each  there  is 
a  lessOn  beyond  the  event  itself.  Let  us  open  our  ears 
to  hear  it. 

Look  first  at  the  victory  with  which  our  arms  have 
been  crowned  in  Abyssinia.  Rarely  indeed  in  the 
annals  of  warfare,  has  a  great  purpose  been  carried  out 
so  exactly  within  the  limits  of  time  and  space,  foreseen 
and  prescribed,  as  that  which  the  endurance  of  our 
soldiers  and  the  skill  of  their  chiefs  have  accomplished 
in  that  distant  land.  For  this  blessed  close  of  deep 
anxiety,  for  these  marvellous  gifts  of  God's  Spirit  to 
our  race  and  country,  we  offer  our  unfeigned  thanks. 
But  even  more  than  these  is  the  mercy  vouchsafed  to  us 
of  the  power  of  showing  in  the  light  of  these  achieve- 
ments, the  bright  example  of  a  war  unstained  by  the 
slightest  tinge  of  ambition,  by  the  slightest  taint  of 
gain  —  a  war,  reluctantly  undertaken,  laboriously  car- 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


79 


ried  out,  magnificently  successful,  not  for  the  sake  of 
territory  or  wealth,  but  for  the  sake  of  redeeming  from 
captivity  a  handful  of  Englishmen,  with  their  wives 
and  children.  The  European  world  looked  at  our 
armament  with  wonder  ;  they  treated  with  incredulous 
scorn  our  protestations  that  so  vast  an  enterprise  was 
undertaken  for  so  small  an  object ;  they  could  not  think 
it  possible  that  a  great  nation  would  enter  on  so  great  a 
war  for  so  simple  and  so  barren  a  purpose.  Thank 
God,  we  have  shown  that  it  was  possible  ;  and  therefore 
when  we  read  of  that  long  march  for  many  a  weary 
league,  over  Alpine  heights,  and  under  burning  suns, 
of  that  fierce  fight  on  Good  Friday  morning,  of  the 
entrance  into  that  mountain  fastness  on  Easter  Mon- 
day, it  is  not  so  much  over  the  fall  of  Magdala,  or  the 
death  of  its  chief,  that  we  triumph  gloriously,  as  over 
the  false  and  wicked  doctrine  that  nations-  can  only 
fight  for  unworthy  objects,  and  soldiers  be  courageous 
only  when  their  recompense  is  plunder.  It  is  not  so 
much  for  the  valor  of  the  enterprise  or  the  splendor  of 
the  achievement  that  we  thank  Almighty  God,  as  be- 
cause He  has,  by  that  valor  and  that  splendor,  enabled 
us  to  set  "  on  a  hill  which  cannot  be  hid  "  the  great 
Christian  principle  of  uniting  might  with  right,  power 
with  forbearance.  "  Better  is  he  that  ruleth  his  own 
spirit  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  As  a  just  cause 
is  a  sufficient  ground  for  a  mighty  war,  so  also  a  just 
cause  is  its  own  sufficient  and  exceeding  great  reward. 
"  Speak,  Lord,"  to  England  and  to  Europe  —  "  speak, 
Lord,"  and  let  Thy  servants  hear.  Let  us  hear  in  those 
trumpet-calls  of  Abyssinian  victory,  the  call  to  justice 
and  mercy,  wherever  God  shall  lead  us.  Let  us,  as  our 
hearts  throb  in  receiving  back  our  soldiers  from  that 
strange  mysterious  country,  welcome  in  them  the  true 
successors  and  sons  of  the  knights  of  old,  who  fought 


80 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


for  truth  and  right,  not  for  gold  or  land  ;  let  us  feel 
that  in  their  deeds  humanity  itself  has  made  a  step 
onwards,  and  that  the  kingdom  of  God  which  is  not  of 
this  world  has  acquired  a  new  possession  in  the  heart 
and  mind  of  Christendom.  Let  us  be  taught  to  value 
the  Divine  gifts  of  courage  and  skill ;  but  let  us  be 
taught  to  value  still  more  deeply  the  Divine  duties  of 
justice,  generosity,  and  self-control. 

III.  There  is  another  call  of  God  from  a  yet  more 
distant  shore,  which  comes  still  nearer  home.  It  is  that 
which  reaches  all  our  hearts  through  the  merciful 
Providence  which  has  sheltered  from  death  a  Prince  of 
our  Royal  House.1 

The  horror  of  a  reckless  crime,  the  thankfulness  for  a 
life  full  of  youthful  hope  rescued  from  an  untimely  end, 
the  s}  mpathy  with  those  who  have  thus  regained,  as  on 
this  day,  a  son,  a  brother,  from  the  grave  —  these  are 
the  natural  Christian  feelings  which  rise  unbidden  to 
every  heart,  and  which  are  but  weakened  by  the  reflec- 
tions of  preacher  or  teacher.  As  in  the  most  pathetic 
of  all  the  Gospel  miracles,  the  great  Healer  of  sorrows 
has  raised  from  the  bier  "  the  son  of  his  mother." 
"  Young  man,  I  say  unto  thee,  arise.  And  He  deliv- 
ered him  to  his  mother  ;  and  she  was  a  widow."  In 
the  words  also  of  the  most  pathetic  of  all  the  Gospel 
parables,  "  It  is  meet  that  we  should  make  merry  and 
be  glad  ;  for  this  thy  brother  was  dead  and'  is  alive 
again,  was  lost  and  is  found." 

"  It  is  indeed  very  meet,  right,  and  our  bounden  duty, 
that  we  should  at  all  times  and  in  all  places  give  thanks 
to  Thee,  O  Lord,  Holy  Father,  Almighty  Everlasting 
God,"  whenever  the  springs  of  pure  domestic  love  are 
stirred  within  us,  whenever  a  sudden  shock  awakens  us 

1  Referring  to  the  attempt  to  assassinate  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh  at 
Sydney,  March  12,  1868. 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


81 


to  the  sense  of  the  nearness  and  clearness  of  family  ties, 
and  home-affections.  Never  may  we  cease  to  feel  the 
force  of  that  sacred  passion.  Never  may  we  cease  to 
rise  above  ourselves  into  the  fellow-feeling  of  delight 
with  which  the  brother  welcomes  home  the  brother,  and 
the  mother  the  son.  "  Speak,  Lord,"  on  this,  and  like 
occasions,  to  all  our  hearts.  We  are  silent ;  our  com- 
mon, vulgar,  baser,  selfish  murmurings  and  babblings 
are  hushed.  Speak  to  us,  for  Thy  servants  hear ;  speak 
to  us  of  tender  kindly  emotions  ;  speak  to  us  of  the 
blessedness  of  peacemakers ;  speak  to  us  of  the  purity 
and  loveliness  of  domestic  affections ;  speak  to  us  of 
the  infinite  preciousness  of  a  life,  of  a  living  soul,  res- 
cued from  sudden  destruction,  preserved  for  all  those 
noble  and  beneficent  purposes  which  God  places  before 
each  human  spirit,  specially  before  those  whom  He  has 
set  in  the  high  places  of  the  earth,  and  endowed  with 
the' capacities  of  greatness. 

And  here  again,  as  in  that  other  call  of  which  I  spoke, 
there  comes  a  voice  of  yet  deeper  import,  a  strain  of  a 
yet  higher  mood,  than  at  first  catches  our  ears.  That 
life  which  has  been  rescued  is  not  a  mere  private  life. 
It  is  one  of  a  house  which  belongs  not  only  to  the  na- 
tion but  to  the  Empire.  In  those  far-off  regions  where 
it  occurred,  the  bright  side  of  this  dark  event  has  been, 
that  it  has  awakened  a  sentiment  of  loyal,  generous, 
unselfish,  enthusiastic  affection  for  the  country  and  for 
the  throne  of  England,  such  as  even  here  we  rarely  see, 
such  as  there  we  hardly  knew  to  exist.  Old  men,  they 
say,  wept  for  grief  to  think  that  such  an  inhospitable 
deed  should  have  darkened  their  shores  ;  the  whole  com- 
munity went  beyond  and  beside  themselves  in  tokens 
of  sympathy  with  the  youthful  sufferer,  of  thankfulness 
for  his  deliverance.  By  that  one  act  the  whole  vast 
continent  of  Australia  —  the  whole  range  of  English 
settlements  along  the  coasts  of  all  the  Australasian 


82 


A  THREEFOLD  CALL. 


Islands  was  moved  in  oneness  of  heart  and  soul  with 
this  their  mother-country.  They  and  we  have  been 
alike  made  to  feel  that  we  were  members  of  one  race 
and  family,  children  of  the  same  sacred  hearth,  subjects 
and  fellow-citizens  of  the  same  royal  commonwealth, 
heirs  of  the  same  great  name,  of  the  same  exalted 
duties.  To  awaken  such  a  feeling  as  this  is  the  true 
mission  of  an  English  Prince.  To  furnish  this  link 
between  the  old  world  and  the  new,  between  England 
as  she  is  and  has  been,  and  England's  sons  wherever 
they  wander  over  the  wide  world's  surface,  is  indeed 
the  very  task  to  which  the  children  of  our  regal  house 
are  called,  and  which  their  royal  parents  fondly  dreamed 
for  them.  To  have  become  the  centre  of  such  a  sympa- 
thy is  indeed  worth  living  for,  is  indeed  a  recompense 
for  hairbreadth  escapes,  for  suffering  days  and  nights, 
the  true  reward  of  all  kingly  and  princely  labors, 
"  good  measure,  pressed  down,  and  running  over,  given 
into  their  bosom." 

"  Speak,  Lord ;  for  Thy  servant  heareth."  Not  for 
ourselves  do  we  act,  but  for  others;  not  for  our  own 
circle  only,  but  for  the  great  country  which  is  our  in- 
heritance ;  not  for  England  only,  but  for  all  those  mul- 
titudes of  men  and  nations,  that  bear  the  English  name 
and  speak  the  English  tongue,  do  our  actions,  some 
more,  some  less,  extend  their  influence  for  good  or  for 
evil.  In  the  silence  of  that  vast  expectant  multitude, 
in  the  presence  of  those  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands, seen  or  unseen  by  us,  we  have  to  perform  our 
parts  in  this  our  generation.  Speak,  Lord ;  our  souls 
are  hushed  to  hear  what  Thou  hast  to  say  to  us.  Great 
is  the  stake,  overwhelming  may  be  the  risks  —  most 
glorious  are  the  opportunities.  Speak.  Lord,  and  show 
us  what  our  duty  is  —  how  high,  how  difficult,  yet  how 
happy,  how  blessed  —  show  us  what  our  duty  is,  and, 
O  great  God  and  Father,  give  us  strength  to  do  it ! 


THE  NATIONAL  THANKSGIVING. 


I.  —  DEATH  AND  LIFE. 

December  10,  1871,  during  the  illness  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 
To  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain.  —  Phil.  i.  21. 

On  a  day  like  this,  when  there  is  one  topic  in  every 
household,  one  question  on  every  lip,  it  is  impossible 
to  stand  in  this  place  and  not  endeavor  to  give  some 
expression  to  that  of  which  every  heart  is  full.  By  a 
natural  Christian  instinct,  the  whole  nation  is  gathered 
into  one  focus.  We  all  press,  as  it  were,  round  one 
darkened  chamber,  we  all  feel  that  with  the  mourniBg 
family,  mother,  wife,  brothers,  sisters,  who  are  there 
assembled,  we  are  indeed  one.  The  thrill  of  their  fears 
or  hopes  passes  through  and  through  the  differences 
of  rank  and  station  ;  we  feel  that,  whilst  they  represent 
the  whole  people,  they  also  represent  and  are  that 
which  each  family,  and  each  member  of  each  family, 
is  separately.  In  the  fierce  battle  between  Life  and 
Death,  for  the  issues  of  which  we  are  all  looking  with 
such  eager  expectation,  we  see  the  likeness  of  what  will 
befall  every  individual  soul  amongst  us ;  and  the  reflec- 
tion which  this  struggle,  with  all  its  manifold  uncertain- 
ties, suggests,  concerns  us  all  alike. 

I  have  thought,  therefore,  that  it  is  best  to  fix  our 

83 


84 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


minds  for  a  few  moments  on  what  that  struggle  in- 
volves—  to  ask  what  are  the  true  lessons  of  Life  and 
of  Death;  to  ask  why  it  is  that,  whether  as  men,  or 
citizens,  or  Christians,  we  desire  with  such  prolonged 
earnestness  that  Life,  and  not  Death,  may  be  the  issue 
of  this  mortal  agony. 

In  doing  so,  let  us  be  guided  by  the  words  of  St. 
Paul.  He  is  writing  to  his  best-beloved  converts.  He 
opens  his  heart  more  fully  to  them  than  to  any  others. 
He  admits  them,  as  though  they  were  his  own  brothers 
and  friends,  to  his  innermost  chamber.  He  discloses  to 
them  his  doubts,  his  anxieties,  his  weaknesses.  He 
describes  to  them  the  danger  in  which  he  is  —  danger, 
we  know  not  whether  of  natural  sickness  or  of  a  violent 
end.  He  looks  on  Death  and  he  looks  on  Life,  and  he 
knows  not  which  to  choose ;  he  sees  the  good  of  each. 
At  last  he  decides  that  what  might  have  seemed  the  best 
for  him  is  not  really  the  best ;  that  what  might  have 
seemed  the  worst  for  him  is  not  really  the  worst.  He 
tells  us,  in  short,  what  are  the  reasons  for  desiring 
Death ;  but  he  tells  us  still  more  strongly  what  are  the 
reasons  for  desiring  Life. 

It  may  seem  almost  cold  thus  to  balance  and  weigh 
the  searchings  of  the  heart  at  such  moments.  Yet 
it  was  not  coldness  in  the  Apostle ;  it  was  the  depth 
of  tenderness.  It  is  not  coldness  in  us ;  it  is  the  only 
channel  into  which  we  can  profitably  turn  our  thoughts 
on  such  an  occasion,  and  make  it  yield  its  proper  lesson. 

I  have,  before  this,  in  quite  another  connection, 
used  these  words  of  the  Apostle.  I  know  not  how 
to  do  better  than  to  use  them  again  to-day,  sharpened 
and  pointed  as  they  are  by  the  feelings  of  the  moment, 
even  to  "  the  dividing  asunder  of  soul  and  spirit,  and 
discerning  the  thoughts  and  intents  "  of  our  innermost 
hearts. 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


85 


To  die  is  gain.  Who  is  there  that  has  not  from  time 
to  time  felt  this,  as  he  looks  at  the  sufferings  of  this 
mortal  life ;  as  he  thinks  of  the  wearing  nights  and 
days  of  sickness,  of  the  restlessness,  the  sinking,  the 
pain,  the  despair,  the  distress  of  the  watchers,  the  pro- 
longed agony  of  the  bystanders ;  as  he  looks  at  the 
miseries  of  this  sinful  world — the  disappointments  of 
brilliant  hopes,  the  sore  temptations  to  evil,  the  mul- 
tiplied chances  of  failure  ?  Who,  as  he  thus  thinks 
of  himself  or  of  others,  has  not  been  moved  to  say,  from 
time  to  time,  "  Oh  that  I  had  the  wings  of  a  dove,  that 
I  might  flee  far  away  and  be  at  rest! "  It  is  the  feel- 
ing beautifully  expressed  by  the  greatest  of  our  poets, 
when  he  says  :  — 

Tired  with  all  these,  for  restful  death  I  cry,  — 

As,  to  behold  desert,  a  beggar  born, 
And  needy  nothing  trimm'd  in  jollity, 

And  purest  faith  unhappily  forsworn, 
And  gilded  honor  shamefully  misplaced, 
And  right  perfection  wrongfully  disgraced, 

And  art  made  tongue-tied  by  authority, 
And  folly,  doctor-like,  controlling  skill, 

And  simple  truth,  miscall'd  simplicity, 
And  captive  Good  attending  Captain  111 : 
Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone. 

So  wrote  Shakespeare  in  his  famous  sonnet,  and  so 
felt  even  the  great  Apostle  when,  amidst  the  desertion 
of  friends,  and  the  hard  struggle  of  truth  against  false- 
hood and  good  against  evil,  he  desired  to  be  at  rest  and 
be  with  his  Master  beyond  the  grave,  which,  he  says, 
"  would  be  far  better." 

So,  too,  we  for  ourselves,  and  for  those  that  we  love, 
and  for  those  whose  lives  are  fraught  with  so  many 
chances  of  fatal  shipwreck,  may  well  long  for  that  day 
when  we  and  they  shall  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal 


86 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


coil ;  when  we  shall  have  done  with  the  anxious  trials, 
the  paltry  quarrels,  the  baffled  hopes,  the  grinding  toil 
of  the  great  Babylon  of  this  harassing  world  ;  when  we 
shall  have  escaped  from  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day, 
from  the  roar  and  tumult  of  the  swollen  torrent  of  life, 
to  be  with  those  beloved  departed, 

Who  in  the  mountain  grots  of  Eden  lie, 
And  hear  the  fourfold  river  as  it  murmurs  by. 

In  this  sense  death  is,  and  must  be,  a  gain  to  all. 
And  it  is  by  reflecting  on  this  clear  gain  that  the  mind 
bows  itself  to  the  Supreme  Will,  and  the  heart  nerves 
itself  to  the  terrible  thought  of  the  last  dread  summons 
from  all  that  we  see  and  love  in  this  earthly  scene.  It 
is  for  this  that,  in  the  language  of  our  Visitation  Ser- 
vice, we  commit  the  soul  with  such  assured  confidence 
into  the  hands  of  its  faithful  Creator  and  most  merci- 
ful Saviour. 

But  the  Apostle  tells  us  that,  after  all,  there  is  some- 
thing yet  greater  than  the  gain  and  rest  of  Death,  and 
that  is  the  struggle  and  victory  of  Life.  Death  was 
gain  to  him,  but  Life  was  something  more.  "  To  live 
is  Christ."'  Death  in  one  sense  is  the  gate  of  Life 
eternal ;  but  Life  —  this  mortal  life  —  is  the  only  true 
gate  of  a  happy  and  peaceful  death.  It  is  in  Life  —  in 
the  wear  and  tear  of  Life  —  that  those  graces  must  be 
wrought  and  fashioned  which  perfect  the  soul,  immortal 
over  Death.  "  Reckon  yourselves,"  says  the  Apostle, 
"  to  be  dead  to  sm."  But  there  is  something  much 
more  than  this,  "  Reckon  yourselves  to  be  alive  to  God 
through  Christ."  He  preaches  with  all  his  heart  and 
soul,  not  the  worthlessness,  but  the  infinite  preciousness 
of  Life. 

Those  lines  from  our  great  poet,  which  I  quoted 
just  now,  describing  his  weariness  of  the  world,  close 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


87 


with  the  one  thought  which  reconciled  him  to  remain- 
ing: — 

Tired  with  all  these,  from  these  would  I  be  gone, 
Save  that,  to  die,  I  leave  my  love  alone. 

That,  doubtless,  is  one  chief  thought  that  makes 
earthly  life  dear  to  us  —  the  thought  that  it  contains 
those  whom  our  departure  would  leave  desolate  and 
alone.  But  in  fact  this  sense  of  human  love  is  a  like- 
ness, like  all  pure  earthly  affections,  of  a  feeling  far 
higher.  When  the  heathen,  when  the  unbeliever  have 
often  sought  escape  from  the  troubles  of  life  by  self- 
destruction,  they  have  done  so  to  escape  from  that 
which  to  them  had  do  sacred  value.  But  the  Christian, 
the  believer  in  God  and  in  Christ,  has,  or  ought  to 
have,  the  abiding  consciousness  that  in  Life  there  are 
not  only  (it  may  be)  the  dearest  objects  of  his  earthly 
affection,  but  that  there  is  the  very  work,  the  very  pres- 
ence of  Christ.  It  is  one  of  the  points  of  coincideDce 
between  true  Christianity  and  true  civilization.  As 
mankind  advances  in  civilization,  human  life  becomes 
more  sacred,  more  precious  ;  as  mankind  advances  in 
Christianity,  the  human  soul,  which  is  but  another  word 
for  human  life,  becomes  more  precious,  more  sacred 
also.  By  leaving  our  work  here  before  the  time,  we 
should  leave  His  work  undone.  By  turning  our  backs 
in  self-will  or  impatience  on  this  mortal  scene,  we  should 
be  turning  our  backs  on  Him  who  is  in  those  very  suf- 
ferings and  struggles  most  surely  to  be  found. 

Every  kindness  done  to  others  in  our  daily  walk, 
every  attempt  to  make  others  happy,  every  prejudice 
overcome,  every  truth  more  clearly  perceived,  every 
difficulty  subdued,  every  sin  left  behind,  every  tempta- 
tion trampled  under  foot,  every  step  forward  in  the 
cause  of  good,  is  a  step  nearer  to  the  life  of  Christ, 


88 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


through  which  only  death  can  be  really  a  gain  to  us. 
Death  may  be  great,  but  Life  is  greater  still.  Death 
may  be  a  state  to  be  desired  for  ourselves,  rejoiced  in 
for  others,  but  Life  is  the  state  in  which  Christ  makes 
Himself  known  to  us,  and  through  which  we  must  make 
ourselves  known  to  Him.  He  sanctified  and  glorified 
every  stage  of  it.  He  was  a  little  child,  and  showed  us 
how  good  it  was  to  be  obedient  to  our  parents,  how  dear 
to  a  mother  a  child  could  be ;  how  He  never  forgot  her, 
but  even  on  the  cross  thought  of  what  would  soothe  and 
comfort  her.  He  grew  up  to  boyhood,  he  showed  us 
how  to  learn,  both  by  hearing  and  asking  questions; 
how  early  He  could  be  busied  in  doing  His  Father's 
work.  He  showed  us  in  full  manhood  how,  in  the  midst 
of  the  world,  and  of  constant  pressing  duties,  many  com- 
ing and  going,  in  feasting  and  in  company,  no  less  than 
in  serious  moments,  He  was  still  the  same  Divine  Mas- 
ter and  Friend.  He  showed  us  in  the  desolation  and 
solitude  of  Gethsemane  and  Calvary,  when  He  seemed 
to  be  left,  unsupported,  to  Himself,  that  He  was  yet  not 
alone,  because  the  Father  was  with  Him.  This  is  the 
way  in  which  this  poor  human  life  may  become  a  Di- 
vine life,  may  become  a  life  of  Christ. 

Therefore,  when  we  apply  these  words  and  thoughts 
to  ourselves,  what  is  it  but  to  dwell  not  on  the  misuse, 
but  on  the  use  of  our  existence  ?  Think  how  much  yet 
remains  to  be  done  in  the  thirty,  twenty  —  yes,  even  in 
the  ten  years,  or  perhaps  in  the  one  year,  perhaps  even 
in  the  one  da}*,  that  yet  may  remain  to  us.  Despise  it 
not,  neglect  it  not ;  cherish,  enlarge,  improve  this  vast, 
this  inestimable  gift,  whilst  it  is  granted  to  us  with  its 
endless  opportunities,  with  its  boundless  capacities,  with 
its  glorious  hopes,  with  its  indispensable  calls,  with  its 
immense  results,  with  its  rare  chances  of  repentance, 
of  improvement,  even  for  the  humblest  and  weakest 
among  us. 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


89 


To  rise  above  ourselves,  to  lose  ourselves  in  the 
thought  of  the  work,  great  or  small,  that  God  has 
placed  before  us  —  to  live  in  that  life  which  is  indeed 
eternal,  because  it  belongs  both  to  this  world  and  the 
next  —  for  the  sake  of  doing  this  the  Apostle  could 
consent  to  live,  could  prefer  life  with  all  its  sorrows  to 
death  with  all  its  gain.  "  God  is  not  a  God  of  the  dead, 
but  of  the  living."  Christ  is  not  a  dead  Christ,  but  a 
living  Christ.  "  The  living,  the  living,  he  shall  praise 
Thee,  he  shall  serve  Thee."  The  varied  duties  of  com- 
mon life  —  the  trivial  round,  the  common  task  —  are 
the  means  by  which  we  carry  on  the  true  Apostolical 
succession  of  Christ's  first  servants.  "  There  may  be 
everywhere"  —  I  quote  the  words  of  a  devoted  Chris- 
tian of  another  country  —  "  there  may  be  everywhere 
a  silent  apostleship,  a  persuasive  and  incessant  sermon 
—  namely,  the  natural  brightness  of  a  profound  and 
true  content.  Never  can  the  immortal  hopes  to  which 
our  devotion  renders  its  sacrifice  be  so  well  proclaimed 
by  our  words,  as  by  the  radiant  tranquillity  of  that 
inward  repose  which  comes  up  from  the  heart  to  the 
countenance."  "I  find"  —  so  said  this  same  saint-like 
person  —  "I  find  Death  perfectly  desirable,  but  I  find 
Life  perfectly  beautiful." 

And  what  is  true  of  the  life  of  individuals  is  true  also 
of  the  life  of  great  communities.  There  is,  indeed,  both 
of  individuals  and  of  nations,  a  life  which  is  not  a  life, 
empty,  dead,  barren,  a  mere  existence,  vanity  of  vanities. 
But  the  collective  life  of  thousands  of  English  Christian 
souls  —  the  life  of  the  heart  of  a  great  people  —  life,  not 
stagnation,  life,  not  idleness,  —  is  the  very  element,  the 
living  element  in  which  the  spirit  of  man  lives  and 
makes  others  live,  of  which  the  Spirit  of  Christ,  which 
is  Christ  Himself,  is  the  life  and  the  light.  This  is  what 
is  meant  by  saying  that  the  Church — that  is  the  Chris- 


90 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


tian  society,  the  living  company  of  all  good  men,  the 
souls  and  hearts  of  Christian  men  and  women  —  forms 
"  the  Body  "  of  Christ.  We,  whether  singly  or  collect- 
ively, are  His  representatives ;  we  are  (so  the  Bible 
repeatedly  tells  us)  His  very  self.  In  all  that  is  best 
and  purest  in  us,  in  our  duties,  in  our  hopes,  He  lives. 
Because  He  lives  we  live.  Because  we  live  He  lives. 
It  is  sometimes  asked  —  it  was  asked  the  other  day  by 
an  eloquent  preacher  in  the  great  neighboring  Cathedral 

—  whether  the  Cbrist,  the  Historical  Person  who  lived 
eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  is  stilL  alive  amongst  us. 
It  is  also  sometimes  asked,  in  many  forms,  and  with 
many  forms  of  reply,  how  and  where  Christ's  presence 
is  to  be  found  and  felt.  But  the  best  answer  to  all 
these  questions  is  the  answer  of  the  Apostle,  "  To  live 
is  Christ."  It  is  so,  as  I  have  said,  on  the  smallest  scale 
in  our  individual  existence.  It  is  so  on  the  largest  scale. 
"  The  Life  of  Christendom  is  the  Life  of  Christ."  That 
is  the  proof,  the  evidence,  the  direct  continuation  of  the 
Life  of  Christ.  It  is  through  the  multitudinous  mass  of 
living  human  hearts,  of  human  acts  and  words  of  love 
and  truth,  that  the  Christ  of  the  first  century  becomes 
the  Christ  of  the  nineteenth.  Each  successive  age, 
each  separate  nation,  does  His  work  on  a  larger  and 
still  larger  scale.  The  arts,  the  literature,  the  sciences, 
the  charities,  the  liberties,  the  laws,  the  worship  of  the 
commonwealths  of  Christian  Europe  are  all  parts  of  the 
living  body  of  Christ.  Their  influence  on  us  is  part 
of  His  influence.  Their  benefits  to  us  are  part  of  "  the 
innumerable  benefits  of  His  Cross  and  Passion."  To 
live  under  the  best  influences  of  Christendom,  to  live 
under  the  best  influences  of  Christian  England,  this  for 
us,  and  this  only,  is  —  the  Apostle  allows  us  to  say  so 

—  is  Christ  Himself. 

And  now,  O  my  brethren,  if  there  be  an  individual 


DEATH  AND  LIFE. 


91 


life  to  which  much  that  I  have  already  said  be  appli- 
cable ;  a  life  dear  to  hundreds  of  loving  friends,  and  to 
a  most  loving  family ;  a  life  which  in  their  service  and 
affection  finds  its  best  inspirations  and  its  best  vital- 
ity ;  a  life  which  had  till  now  (humanly  speaking)  long 
years  of  usefulness  and  happiness  before  it  —  then  for 
the  preservation  of  that  life,  for  the  sake  of  him  who 
now  lies  on  the  dark  confines  of  hope  and  fear,  and  for 
the  sake  of  those  most  near  and  dear  to  him,  we  may, 
and  must  earnestly  pray,  and  trust  that  it  may  by  God's 
blessing  be  preserved.  And  when  we  add  the  further 
thought  that  this  is  a  life  which  may,  if  so  be,  influence 
to  an  untold  degree  the  national  existence  of  which  I 
just  now  spoke  — a  life  which,  if  duly  appreciated  and 
fitly  used,  contains  within  it  special  opportunities  of 
good  such  as  no  other  existence  in  this  great  commun- 
ity possesses ;  a  life  which  may,  if  worthily  employed, 
stimulate  all  that  is  noble  and  beneficent,  and  discour- 
age all  that  is  low  and  base  and  frivolous ;  which,  from 
its  exceptional  position,  will  have  the  power  of  moder- 
ating the  extremes  of  party  zeal,  and  of  pursuing  the 
common  weal  of  all  with  an  energy  not  weakened  or 
divided  by  local  or  partial  claims;  a -life  which,  if 
spared,  may  be  the  instrument  for  making  us  more  and 
more  to  be  of  one  mind  and  heart  in  all  that  is  just  and 
good,  even  as  at  this  moment  the  fear  of  losing  it  has 
brought  us  all  together  with  one  heart  and  one  soul  — ■ 
such  a  life  is  worth  living,  is  worth  praying  for.  And 
for  such  a  life,  for  such  a  Royal  life  —  which  is  so  dear 
now  to  those  who  watch  its  fluctuations  from  hour  to 
hour  beside  and  around  the  bed  of  sickness,  which  may, 
with  God's  blessing,  be  so  precious  for  our  children  and 
our  children's  children  —  we  pray  that  it  may  yet  be 
prolonged  for  the  good  of  men  and  the  glory  of  God, 
through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord,  who  is  "  the  Resur- 


92 


THE  TRUMPET  OE  PATMOS. 


rection  and  the  Life,  in  whom  whosoever  believeth, 
though  he  were  dead  yet  shall  he  live." 


H.  — THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 

December  17,  1871. 

I  was  in  the  Spirit  on  the  Lord's  day,  and  heard  behind  me  a  great 
voice,  as  of  a  trumpet.  —  Rev.  i.  10. 

The  new  Calendar  of  Lessons,  which  has  been  fol- 
lowed for  some  months  in  this  church,  introduces  for  the 
first  time  in  the  Services  of  this  Sunday  portions  from 
the  Book  of  the  Revelation  of  St.  John.  The  history 
of  the  reception  of  that  book  in  the  Church  is  curious 
and  instructive.  For  the  first  three  centuries  it  was 
not  regularly  received  amongst  the  Canonical  Books  of 
Scripture,  and  even  after  it  was  received,  even  at  the 
time  of  the  Reformation,  very  few  lessons  were  selected 
from  it  to  be  read  in  public.  The  reasons  for  this  are 
obvious.  The  book  is  in  fact  exceedngly  obscure  — 
and  it  has  been  made  even  more  obscure  by  the  fancies 
of  interpreters.  It  was  also  in  ancient  times  looked 
upon  askance,  because  it  was  the  favorite  text-book  of 
those  who  were  then  thought  heretics,  and  in  modern 
times  because  it  has  been  the  favorite  text-book  of 
angry  polemics  and  fanciful  diviners  of  the  future  — 
the  source  whence  have  been  drawn  weapons  of  offence 
against  theological  adversaries,  or  imaginary  pictures  of 
the  history  of  modern  Europe.  But  in  spite  of  these 
objections,  it  has,  by  the  force  of  its  sublime  poetic 
form  and  its  high  moral  tone,  held  its  ground  ;  and  the 
true  instinct  of  Christendom  has  been  shown  in  the 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


93 


fact,  that  without  the  sanction  of  Councils  and  against 
the  opinion  of  great  prelates,  this  m}rsterious  book  has 
gradually  forced  its  way  into  the  Canon  of  Scripture, 
and  now  at  last,  after  having  been  almost  excluded  from 
the  public  service  of  the  English  Church,  it  has  been 
appointed  to  be  read  during  the  last  month  in  the  year, 
when  its  lessons  naturally  fall  in  with  the  season  of 
Advent.  Some  chapters  are  still  omitted,  as  fit  rather 
for  the  solitary  student  than  for  the  mixed  congrega- 
tion. But  there  is  enough  given  to  express  the  general 
tenor  of  the  book,  and  it  is  of  this  general  tenor  that  I 
propose  to  speak,  and  of  this  with  its  special  applica- 
tion to  ourselves. 

The  Prophet  (for  as  such  we  must  regard  the  author 
of  this  sacred  book)  was  on  the  solitary  island  of  Patmos, 
withdrawn  from  earthly  things,  like  Moses  on  Sinai,  or 
Elijah  on  Carmel.  Round  about  him  was  the  bright 
iEgean  Sea,  with  its  hundred  isles  and  the  neighboring 
mountains  of  Asia  Minor,  within  whose  circle  lay  the 
familiar  Seven  Churches  to  which  his  epistles  and  ad- 
dresses were  sent.1  And  it  was  on  the  Lord's  Day. 
He  was  wrapt  in  the  stillness  and  devotion  of  the  day, 
already  even  in  that  early  time  set  apart  for  the  con- 
templation of  heavenly  things.  Such  was  the  external 
framework  of  the  prophecy.  It  was  in  this  solitude,  in 
this  solemn  scene,  from  this  lonely  peak  of  speculation, 
that  there  was  unrolled  before  the  eye  of  his  spirit  that 
vision  of  the  future  which  is  called  the  "  Apocalypse," 
that  is  the  "Revelation,"  the  "Unveiling"  of  the  will 
and  purpose  of  Providence. 

Amidst  all  that  is  obscure  and  difficult,  there  are  two 
main  features  of  this  Revelation  which  may  be  easily 
described  and  easily  understood.  The  first  is  that,  as 
in  all  the  prophetic  visions  of  the  Bible,  the  outward 

1  See  Appendix  to  Sermons  in  the  East,  pp.  225-31. 


94 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


imagery  is  taken  from  the  objects  and  circumstances 
immediately  at  hand  and  around.  Not  only  do  the 
bright  sky,  the  wide  sea,  the  lofty  mountains,  the  gro- 
tesque rocks,  the  sandy  beach,  of  Patmos  and  the  adja- 
cent islands  enter  into  the  picture,  but  the  whole  tissue 
of  the  visions  themselves  is  drawn  from  the  events  with 
which  the  atmosphere  of  that  portentous  time  was 
charged.  It  was  the  period  which  witnessed  the  fulfil- 
ment of  those  signs  in  earth  and  heaven  which  are  set 
forth  in  the  Gospel  records  brought  before  us  at  this 
season.  The  long  peace  which  had  prevailed  through- 
out the  world  down  to  the  death  of  the  Emperor  Nero 
had  just  been  broken  up.  It  was  the  epoch  which  the 
Roman  historian  describes  as  "  teeming  with  disasters, 
terrible  in  war,  rent  with  faction,  savage  even  in  peace." 
From  the  Northern  Ocean  to  the  iEgean  coasts,  all  was 
in  confusion  and  alarm ;  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  earth- 
quakes, volcanoes,  armies  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing, the  fall  of  Jerusalem,  the  burning  of  Rome,  the 
overthrow  of  the  cities  of  Herculaneum  and  Pompeii, 
the  barbarians  hanging  on  the  frontier,  dynasty  after 
dynasty  succeeding  each  other  on  the  imperial  throne, 
"  the  powers  of  heaven  shaken,  men's  hearts  failing 
them  for  fear  of  those  things  that  were  coming  on  the 
earth."  This  was  the  horizon  on  which  the  Prophet 
looked  out,  and  it  was  the  thought  of  these  calamities 
which  presented  to  him  the  imagery  of  those  prophecies 
which  have  themselves  continued  the  like  imagery  for 
all  such  convulsions  in  every  age.  The  "  thunderings 
and  lightnings  and  earthquakes,"  "  the  trumpets  of 
war "  and  "  the  vials  of  wrath,"  the  overthrow  of  the 
Imperial  city  on  her  seven  hills,  the  bottomless  pit,  and 
Death  on  his  pale  horse,  all  these  are  the  signs  which 
he  read  in  the  loAvering  heavens  and  the  distracted  earth 
of  his  own  times.    And  on  the  other  hand,  the  martyrs 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


95 


under  the  throne,  the  white-robed  army  of  saints,  the 
new  Jerusalem  coming  down  as  a  bride  adorned  for  her 
husband,  were  suggested  by  the  thought  of  the  little 
band  of  Christians  already  spreading  through  the  Em- 
pire, already  becoming  the  centres  of  light  and  life  and 
truth  amidst  a  corrupt,  decaying,  and  dissolving  world ; 
struggling  against  their  fanatical  persecutors  in  the  Jew- 
ish Church,  and  their  heathen  persecutors  in  the  Roman 
Empire,  yet  still  holding  their  own,  and  containing 
within  themselves  the  pledge  of  the  future  of  civiliza- 
tion and  of  Christianity.  It  is  needless,  it  is  futile  to 
seek  in  these  chapters  for  the  detailed  history  of  our 
own  recent  times.  They  have  no  relation  to  modern 
events  ;  they  belong,  as  far  as  their  letter  is  concerned, 
to  the  States  and  the  Churches  which  formed  the  hori- 
zon, far  or  near,  of  the  Seer  on  the  rock  of  Patmos,  in 
the  first  century  of  the  Christian  era  —  not  to  the  States 
and  Churches  of  Italy,  France,  Germany,  or  England, 
in  the  sixteenth,  or  eighteenth,  or  nineteenth,  or  twen- 
tieth centuries,  as  some  in  all  succeeding  generations 
have  vainly  tried  to  find  them. 

There  is  much  in  them  that  we  shall  never  understand 
—  they  are  riddles  of  which  the  key  is  lost ;  "  the  times 
and  the  seasons  that  the  Father  has  put  in  His  own 
power,"  and  "  which  are  not  known  to  the  Angels  of 
God,  nor  even  to  the  Son  of  Man,"  are  not  likely  to  be 
discovered  by  any  process  of  interpretation,  however 
ingenious,  from  this  sacred  book,  which,  as  regards  these 
outward  things,  was  addressed  to  the  generation  not  of 
some  future  age,  but  of  that  which  its  author  was  spe- 
cially sent  to  waken  and  to  warn. 

But,  secondly,  there  is  an  eternal  truth  wrapt  up  in 
these  sublime  visions  —  in  their  spirit,  and  not  in  their 
letter ;  in  their  general  principles,  not  in  their  details. 
On  that  great  Lord's  day  St.  John  was  not  in  the  flesh, 


96 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


not  in  the  time  or  space  of  any  particular  scene  or  spot 
on  earth,  but  "in  the  Spirit."  And  "in  the  Spirit," 
under  these  outward  forms,  he  described  how  through 
struggles,  through  miseries  and  confusions  of  every  kind, 
the  cause  of  goodness  and  truth,  the  spiritual  man  (so 
to  speak)  of  the  whole  human  race  advances  towards 
perfection.  From  that  solitary  rock  he  saw  the  shaking 
of  empires,  the  ruin  of  nations,  the  persecution  of  the 
saints,  the  blood  of  the  martyrs;  yet  he  felt  persuaded, 
and  in  his  bright  and  beaming  words  of  hope  and  tri- 
umph, he  has  stamped  on  the  mind  of  Christendom  his 
persuasion,  that  purity  and  truth  would  come  out  victo- 
rious at  last.  It  is  at  times  a  hard  doctrine  to  receive. 
It  seems  at  times  as  if  the  advance  of  civilization,  of 
religion,  of  goodness  were  so  irregular  that  we  almost 
despair  of  the  ultimate  purposes  of  Providence,  of  the 
final  perfection  of  humanity.  Yet  the  Seer  of  Patmos 
did  not  despair,  nor  was  troubled  beyond  measure ;  and 
so,  neither  should  our  hearts  fail. 

In  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  that  spoke  behind  him, 
however  varied  its  tones,  he  recognized,  and  we  should 
recognize,  the  voice  of  God.  Even  when,  as  then,  the 
progress  of  humanity  seemed  to  be  thrown  back,  and 
ancient  superstitions  seemed  to  be  regaining  their  hold, 
he  clung,  and  we  may  still  cling,  to  the  hope  that  good 
will  be  wrought  out  of  evil ;  even  when  we  look  on  the 
grievous  crimes  and  follies  which  have  brought  about 
the  fall  of  nations,  we  may  speak  of  them,  as  even  in 
that  hour  of  judgment  St.  John  himself  spoke  of  them, 
with  a  feeling  of  human  sympathy  for  the  wreck  of 
Imperial  greatness  and  world-wide  splendor. 

These,  then,  are  the  two  main  features  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse. First,  the  interest,  which  the  public  events  of 
our  own  time  are  intended  to  awaken  in  the  hearts  of 
Christians.  Secondl}*,  the  moral  and  spiritual  effect 
which  such  an  interest  is  intended  to  produce. 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


97 


Other  signs,  other  striking  events,  have  occurred  in 
the  earlier  part  of  this  year,  on  which  I  have  before 
dwelt,1  as  like  to  those  greater  convulsions  of  which  the 
Revelation  speaks.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  we  shall 
be  also  following  out  the  spirit  of  this  sacred  book,  if  we 
fix  our  attention  on  the  one  public  event,  close  at  hand, 
which  has  recently  filled  our  minds ;  if  we  concentrate 
our  thoughts  on  that  one  single  trumpet-call,  and  ask 
what  permanent  good  we  may  learn  from  it. 

We  were  all  of  us  engaged  in  our  several  pursuits ; 
most  of  us  as  much  withdrawn  from  any  of  the  concerns 
which  were  going  on  outside  of  our  own  immediate 
circles  as  St.  John  was  removed  from  all  thoughts  of 
the  great  Roman  Empire  in  his  seclusion  in  the  isle  of 
Patmos.  Suddenly,  like  him,  we  every  one  of  us  were 
roused  from  these  separate  individual  cares  —  every 
one,  however  high  or  however  humble,  in  the  midst  of 
our  several  distractions  and  occupations,  as  though  we 
heard  "  the  voice  of  a  trumpet  talking  with  us."  It 
came  not  from  falling  thrones,  or  blood-stained  battle- 
fields, or  burning  cities,  but  from  a  single  sick  chamber 
in  a  secluded  English  county.  At  each  successive  re- 
verberation of  that  thrilling  voice,  as  it  was  repeated 
from  city  to  city  in  countless  messages,  it  hushed  the 
strife  of  angry  disputants,  it  silenced  the  eager  gather- 
ing, it  broke  up  the  festive  banquet,  it  rang  on  from 
shore  to  shore  through  the  vast  range  of  the  whole 
empire  ;  the  whole  nation  of  Englishmen  became  on  a 
sudden  possessed  with  one  thought  and  one  desire. 
Even  the  remote  subjects  of  our  dominion,  of  other 
races  and  other  creeds,  joined  in  one  united  prayer  for 
one  single  youthful  life,  that  it  might  be  sustained  in 
its  fierce  struggle  with  death.    And  now  that  the  tones 

i  In  sermons  preached  in  the  earlier  part  of  1871,  during  the  troubles 
of  Fi  ance  and  the  conflagration  of  Paris. 


98 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


of  that  trumpet  are  changed  from  mourning  into  joy, 
from  despair  into  hope,  not  the  less  are  its  vibrations 
felt  in  every  household  and  in  every  heart. 

My  brethren,  there  is  not  yet  such  absolute  confi- 
dence as  that  we  can  indulge  in  assured  thanksgiving 
for  the  answer  to  our  hopes ;  and  it  is  not  till  that  day 
arrives  that  we  can  look  forward,  as  we  then  ought  to 
look  forward,  with  solemn  and  serious  thoughts  to  the 
fresh  duties  which  the  gracious  mercy  of  God  will  then, 
if  so  be,  impose  both  on  him  who  is  spared,  and  on  us 
who  have  so  earnestly  trusted  that  he  might  be  spared. 

But  we  may,  even  now,  before  the  recollection  of  our 
strain  of  eager  expectation  and  anxiety  has  faded  away, 
ask  ourselves  what  this  voice  was  intended  to  teach  us ; 
we  may  seek  to  give  the  reasons  to  ourselves  and  to 
other  nations  why  our  hearts  have  thus  burned  within 
us,  why,  by  the  mortal  struggle  of  a  single  existence, 
our  souls  were  so  deeply  stirred. 

There  were  many  feelings  which  this  unexpected 
trumpet-call  awakened  in  us,  that  made  it  like  a  voice 
from  a  better  world. 

Let  me  speak  of  a  few  of  these.  I  confine  myself  to 
those  which  apply  to  all  of  us  alike. 

The  first  lesson  of  such  a  summons  is  that  it  called 
us  out  of  ourselves.  Nothing  is  so  narrowing,  contract- 
ing, hardening,  as  always  to  be  moving  in  the  same 
groove,  with  no  thought  beyond  what  we  immediately 
6ee  and  hear  close  around  us.  Any  shock  which  breaks 
this  even  course,  any  thing  which  makes  us  think  of 
other  joys  and  sorrows  besides  our  own,  is  of  itself 
chastening,  sanctifying,  edifying.  We  are,  or  ought  to 
be,  the  better  for  having  had  our  souls  filled  with  the 
thought  of  others,  whom  many  of  us  never  saw,  with 
hopes  and  fears  which  went  far  beyond  the  small  span 
of  our  own  lives  into  the  distant  future. 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


99 


Secondly,  it  touched  a  chord  which  vibrates  even  in 
the  least  responsive  hearts.  It  appealed  to  our  sense 
of  the  sanctity,  the  preciousness  of  family  ties ;  it  drew 
us  round  one  family  hearth.  In  every  condition  of  life 
a  natural  instinct  prompted  an  instantaneous  sympa- 
thy with  and  for  the  sufferer  and  those  who  were  watch- 
ing around  him,  because  in  every  household  the  same 
scene  might  at  any  moment  be  enacted.  It  made  us 
feel,  according  to  the  trite  saying,  that  royal  persons 
are  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  with  us ;  but  it  also 
made  us  feel  —  which  is  no  less  important  —  that  we 
are  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  with  them.  That  strain 
of  suspense,  that  sorrow,  that  joy  which  we  all  of  us 
have  felt,  was  a  testimony  to  the  true  nobleness  and 
greatness  of  home  affections.  Let  us,  as  we  think  over 
this  week,  thank  God  that  He  has  planted  these  in- 
stincts within  us.  Let  no  one  be  ashamed  to  own,  let 
every  one  be  eager  to  cherish,  these  pure  and  sacred 
feelings,  which  a  whole  nation  has  been  proud  to  ex- 
hibit, and  which  are  in  fact  the  foundation  of  all  true 
national  and  all  true  Christian  life. 

Thirdly,  it  has  brought  before  us  how,  amidst  all  our 
dissensions  and  party  strifes,  we  are  still  Englishmen  — 
Englishmen,  first  and  foremost,  whatever  we  may  be 
besides.  This  is  not  the  first  time  that  the  like  pene- 
trating sympathy  with  a  single  member  of  the  royal 
house  has  knit  together  the  hearts  of  all.  So  it  was,  as 
our  fathers  have  told  us,  when  the  Princess  Charlotte 
was  snatched  away  in  a  moment  of  time  with  her  in- 
fant child.  So  it  was  on  that  sad  day  which,  on  its  tenth 
anniversary  in  this  past  week,  filled  every  mind  with 
dark  forebodings,  when  the  illustrious  Prince,  whose 
loss  is  still  felt  throughout  the  Empire,  was  called  away 
in  the  midst  of  his  beneficent  career.  So  it  has  been 
in  that  alternation  of  grief  and  hope  which  has  wavered 


100 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


round  the  sick  bed  of  the  Heir  of  the  remote  future. 
This  it  is  which  gives  to  the  Family  that  represents  the 
whole  people  so  rare,  so  singular  an  interest.  It  brings 
before  us  in  a  living,  present  shape  the  fact  that  above 
and  beyond  all  sects  and  parties  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
an  inextinguishable  feeling  towards  our  common  coun- 
ty, a  sacred  bond  in  the  thought  that  one  familiar  name 
calls  up  all  our  patriotic  emotions,  a  charm  which  gilds 
the  wear  and  tear  of  politics  with  a  personal  devotion, 
such  as  no  mere  abstraction  could  enkindle.  I  have 
often  before  and  elsewhere  dwelt  on  the  sacredness  of  a 
Christian  State,  on  the  paramount  supremacy  of  the 
English  Crown  and  the  English  Law.  It  is  impossible 
to  imagine  a  more  striking  tribute  than  that  which  has 
been  just  rendered  to  tliis  sometimes  forgotten  and  dis- 
paraged truth,  by  the  spontaneous  outburst  of  every 
class  and  of  every  party.  There  are  nations,  and  there 
have  been  times,  in  which  the  devotion  to  the  reigning 
family  has  been  a  thing  separate  and  apart  from  the 
love  of  country.  There  have  been  times  and  places, 
where  the  love  of  country  has  existed  with  no  loyal 
feeling  to  the  reigning  family.  Let  us  thank  God  that 
in  England  it  is  not  so.  Loyalty  with  us  is  the  personal, 
romantic  side  of  Patriotism.  Patriotism  with  us  is  the 
Christian,  philosophic  side  of  Loyalty.  Long  may  the 
two  nourish  together,  each  supporting  and  sustaining 
the  other ! 

And,  finally,  this  universal  movement  has  shown  — 
what  in  the  last  resort  Englishmen  have  always  shown 
— -that  we  are  (I  say  it  not  in  any  spirit  of  boastful- 
ness  or  ostentation)  a  Godfearing  and  religious  people. 
What  was  the  natural  expression  of  our  hopes  and  fears, 
our  sympathy  and  our  anxious  expectation?  It  was  the 
united  sacred  language  of  prayer  to  the  Supreme  Ruler 
and  Father  of  the  Universe.    Not  only  in  the  churches 


THE  TRUMPET  OF  PATMOS. 


101 


in  which,  as  here,  day  after  day,  the  names  of  the  Sov- 
ereign and  her  children  are  habitually  mentioned,  and 
where,  in  silent  meditation,  each  of  those  names  has 
through  the  whole  of  this  long  suspense  been  com- 
mended to  God,  not  only  in  the  solemn  prayer  which 
on  last  Sunday  was  offered  up  with  one  consent  in 
every  proud  cathedral  and  humble  village  church  which 
owns  the  Queen's  authority,  but  in  every  church  and 
chapel  of  every  sect,  however  far  removed  from  our 
mode  of  worship  or  doctrine  ;  in  temples  of  other  faiths 
in  regions  far  away ;  in  journals  at  home,  however  cyni- 
cal and  worldly ;  in  assemblies  however  secular,  the 
same  awful  Name  was  invoked,  the  same  devout  wish 
was  expressed,  the  same  sacred  petition  breathed,  differ- 
ing in  words,  but  in  substance  the  same.  This  is  indeed 
a  true  Christian  communion ;  this  is  to  keep  the  unity 
of  the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  Peace.  We  need  not  pen- 
etrate into  the  inscrutable  secrets  of  Providence,  we 
need  not  perplex  ourselves  with  precise  questions  on 
the  mode  in  which  Prayer  is  answered.  It  is  enough 
for  us  to  know  and  feel  that  it  is  the  most  natural, 
the  most  powerful,  the  most  elevated  expression  of  our 
thoughts  and  wishes  in  all  great  emergencies.  It  is 
enough  to  know  that,  in  the  most  severe  of  all  trials, 
the  most  sustaining  and  comforting  thought  is  the  fixed 
belief  that  we  are  in  the  hands  of  an  All-wise,  All- 
merciful  Father.  To  Him  we  turned  in  anxious  sus- 
pense, to  Him  we  turn  again  with  grateful  thanks.  Into 
His  Hands  we  commended  the  spirit  of  the  sufferer, 
hovering  between  life  and  death,  to  be  strengthened, 
purified,  and,  if  it  might  so  be,  restored  to  us.  Into 
those  same  Hands  of  infinite  compassion  we  commend 
once  more  that  same  youthful  spirit,  returning,  as  we 
trust,  from  the  gates  of  the  grave  to  a  higher,  better, 
grander  life  than  ever  before. 


102 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


May  we  be  strengthened  by  the  voice  of  the  heavenly 
Trumpet  to  fulfil  more  faithfully,  more  loyally,  more 
courageously  our  duty  towards  him ;  may  he  be  strength- 
ened by  that  same  voice,  as  from  another  world,  to  fulfil 
more  actively,  more  steadfastly,  more  zealously  his  duty 
towards  us  !  "  Unto  God's  gracious  mercy  and  protec- 
tion we  commit  him.  The  Lord  bless  him  and  keep 
him  !  The  Lord  make  His  face  to  shine  upon  him,  and 
be  gracious  unto  him !  " 


m.— THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 

March  3,  1872. 

/  teas  glad  when  they  said  unto  me,  We  will  go  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord.  —  Psalm  exxii.  1  (Prayer-book  version). 

These  words,  taken  from  the  Psalms  of  the  27th 
day  of  the  month,  which  I  have  caused  to  be  again 
repeated  here  to-day,  met  the  eyes  of  thousands  in  the 
course  of  the  past  week,  inscribed  over  the  western 
portico  of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  They  fitly  expressed 
the  feeling  which  swayed  the  heart  of  the  whole  me- 
tropolis. We  were  glad,  we  rejoiced,  because  our  Sov- 
ereign and  her  people  had  said,  "  We  will  go  into  the 
house  of  the  Lord."  It  was  a  gladness  which  made 
itself  felt  even  to  the  distant  extremities  of  our  mighty 
Empire.  It  was  a  gladness  for  the  gracious  gift,  as  if 
sent  direct  from  heaven,  of  a  precious  life  which  we 
had  earnestly  sought.  It  was  the  gladness  of  behold- 
ing the  Sovereign  whom  we  loved  once  more  trusting 
herself  amongst  us,  and  receiving  with  radiant  smiles, 
with  unshaken  courage,  the  tokens  of  her  people's 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


103 


loyalty.  It  was  the  thankful  gladness,  we  may  say,  for 
the  Thanksgiving  itself,  the  grateful  relief,  that  a  day 
so  long  expected  with  such  eagerness  —  we  had  well- 
nigh  said  with  such  awe  —  as  its  morning  dawned  with 
its  mighty  burden  of  innumerable  human  souls,  had 
come  and  gone  amidst  such  almost  unclouded  bright- 
ness, such  almost  unbroken  order  and  pure  unstained 
enjoyment. 

But  it  was  not  mere  gladness,  not  mere  thanksgiving. 
When  we  felt  that  the  centre  of  all  those  myriad  move- 
ments was  not  the  seat  of  commerce,  or  legislation,  or 
pleasure,  but  the  consecrated  house  of  the  Lord ;  when 
we  looked  down  on  the  multitudes  covering  that  vast 
area,  or  upwards  to  the  multitudes  suspended  in  that 
soaring  cupola ;  when  after  the  long  hours  of  waiting, 
there  fell  over  all  those  dense  masses  a  stillness,  as  of 
an  unseen  Presence ;  when,  as  the  voice  of  praise  and 
prayer  went  up  from  thousands  of  lips  and  thousands 
of  hearts,  the  whole  atmosphere  became,  as  it  were, 
charged  with  worship  —  we  felt  assured  that  the  ages 
of  faith  are  not  yet  run  out ;  that  Religion,  in  its  widest 
and  deepest  sense,  still  holds  its  sway  over  the  hearts  of 
Englishmen,  that  it  shall  be,  as  far  as  human  foresight 
can  reach,  the  crown  and  consummation  and  best 
expression  of  our  noblest  and  purest  feelings.  And 
when  further  we  remarked,  how,  under  that  spacious 
dome  were  gathered  (with  the  single  exception  of  one 
exclusive  bod}')  the  representatives  of  every  Christian, 
nay,  of  every  religious  community  in  England,  how  all 
of  these  felt  that,  agreeing  here  or  disagreeing  there, 
they  yet  on  the  whole  could  join  in  the  utterances  of 
religious  faith  and  hope  as  embodied  in  the  venerable 
forms  of  the  National  Church  —  it  was  a  living  proof 
that  such  united  worship  within  one  common  national 
sanctuary  is  not  an  idle  dream ;  it  was  a  sign  that  a 


104 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


National  Church,  so  bound  up,  heart  and  soul,  life  and 
limb,  with  the  Nation  and  the  State,  could  alcne  fur- 
nish such  a  common  meeting-point  of  religion  and 
patriotism  —  it  was  a  pledge  that  as  long  as  the  memory 
of  that  day  remains,  England  will  not  willingly  consent 
to  make  over  her  noblest  historical  and  sacred  edifices, 
her  purest  and  highest  aspirations  after  God,  to  the 
keeping  of  any  single  sect,  or  to  the  mere  rivalry  and 
contention  of  private  interests. 

When  further  we  thought  how  he  who  was  the 
central  object  of  that  vast  gathering,  was  there  not 
merely  as  an  ordinary  worshipper,  but  as  one  who  had, 
by  a  marvellous  recovery  returned  from  the  very  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  and  that,  by  a  singular  coin- 
cidence, the  Primate's  words  of  sober  and  simple  coun- 
sel were  uttered  by  one  who  had  himself  been  recalled 
by  a  recovery  not  less  wonderful  to  health  and  activity 
amongst  us  —  a  dying  man,  speaking  as  to  a  dying  man 
of  the  duties  of  the  living  to  which  both  had  been 
alike  brought  back ;  when  we  remembered  how  around 
that  youthful  form  life  and  death  had  battled,  for  long 
days  and  nights,  like  mortal  combatants,  in  a  strife  of 
which  the  whole  English  race  were  the  awestruck  spec- 
tators; when  we  glanced  at  the  mother,  wife,  brothers, 
sisters,  and  little  children,  in  whose  anguish,  and  anx- 
ious expectation,  and  returning  happiness  all  the  nation 
found  the  impersonation  of  their  own  peculiar  joys  and 
sorrows  —  then,  again,  we  felt  that  it  was  not  merely 
a  solemn  service,  a  sacred  act  of  adoration,  but  a  ser- 
vice, a  worship,  of  the  most  living  reality,  because  it 
rose  from  and  gathered  round  a  living  human  being, 
with  passions,  hopes,  fears,  duties,  such  as  each  one 
of  us  knows  in  himself,  needing  the  same  strength  from 
above,  struggling  with  the  same  terrible  temptations, 
wrought  in  the  same  English  mould,  inheritor  of  the 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


105 


same  individual  destiny  for  weal  or  woe,  according  to 
the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  whether  they  be  good  or 
whether  they  be  evil.  Other  services  might  be  more 
ornate,  more  dramatic ;  other  appeals  to  the  feelings 
more  exciting ;  other  forms  of  devotion  more  eager  to 
pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  eternal  world,  or  explain  the 
unrevealed  mysteries  of  Providence.  We  were  content 
with  the  simple  expression  of  heartfelt  gratitude,  as  of 
sons  to  a  Father,  for  a  mercy  received ;  and  if  that  nat- 
ural expression  rose  to  gigantic  proportions,  it  was  only 
because  the  whole  nation  was  resolved  to  bear  its  part 
therein. 

But  yet  more ;  not  only  was  this  a  solemn  religious 
festival,  not  only  did  it  concern  the  welfare  of  a  human 
soul,  which,  whether  of  Prince  or  peasant,  is  equally 
precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Eternal  God  —  but  it  was 
the  response  in  every  English  heart  to  the  sense  of  the 
union,  too  subtle  for  analysis,  yet  true  and  simple  as 
the  primitive  instincts  of  our  race,  which  binds  the 
people  of  England  to  their  monarchy,  and  the  mon- 
archy to  the  people.  It  is  the  feeling  of  which  the 
Psalms  are  so  noble  a  rendering,  and  which  make  them 
so  fit  an  exponent  of  our  national  hopes  and  fears.  — 
"  There  is  the  seat  of  judgment.  There  are  the  thrones 
of  the  house  of  David.  For  my  brethren  and  compan- 
ions' sake,  I  will  wish  thee  prosperity ;  yea,  because  of 
the  House  of  the  Lord  our  God,  I  will  seek  to  do  thee 
good."  So  spoke  the  Psalmist  in  the  inspired  thanks- 
giving, from  which  the  text  is  taken.  And  so  in  a  yet 
more  exalted  strain,  another  Psalmist  drew  a  picture 
of  what  such  a  monarchy  should  be  —  "  Give  thy  judg- 
ments, O  God,  to  the  king,  and  thy  righteousness  to 
the  king's  son.  He  shall  judge  thy  people  with  right- 
eousness, and  thy  poor  with  judgment.  He  shall  deliver 
the  needy  when  he  crieth,  and  the  poor  also,  and  him 


106 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


that  hath  no  helper.  In  his  days  shall  the  righteous 
flourish,  and  abundance  of  peace,  so  long  as  the  moon 
endureth." 

Such  was  the  ideal  of  a  just  and  beneficent  Mon- 
archy more  than  two  thousand  years  ago.  Such,  to 
all  who  can  feel  or  think,  it  still  is,  amidst  whatever 
mixture  of  personal  and  national  infirmity,  amidst 
whatever  changes  have  been  wrought  by  differences 
of  time  and  race  and  country,  in  our  modern  exist- 
ence. 

Look  for  a  moment  at  the  serious,  philosophic,  Chris- 
tian aspect  of  such  a  monarchy,  at  that  which  alone 
rendered  possible  the  feelings  of  the  week  that  is  past. 
It  is  the  one  name  and  place  amongst  us  which  unites 
in  almost  unbroken  succession  the  whole  range  of  our 
island  story,  which  is  the  common  property  of  the 
whole  British  people,  we  might  almost  say  of  the  whole 
Anglo-Saxon  race.  Xo  other  existing  throne  in  Europe 
reaches  back  to  the  same  antiquity,  none  other  com- 
bines with  such  an  undivided  charm  the  associations 
of  the  past,  the  interests  of  the  present.  It  is  the  one 
name  and  place  which,  being  raised  high  above  all 
party  struggles,  all  local  jealousies,  over  all  causes  and 
over  all  cases,  ecclesiastical  as  well  as  civil,  is  the 
supreme  controlling  spring  which  binds  together,  in 
their  widest  sense,  all  the  forces  of  the  State  and  all 
the  forces  of  the  Church.  It  is  the  one  name  and  place 
which,  being  beyond  the  reach  of  personal  ambition, 
beyond  the  need  of  private  gain,  has  the  inestimable 
chance  of  guiding,  moulding,  elevating,  the  tastes,  the 
customs,  the  morals  of  the  whole  community.  It  is 
the  one  institution,  which,  by  the  very  nature  of  its 
existence,  unites  the  abstract  idea  of  country  and  of 
duty  with  the  personal  endearments  of  family  life,  of 
domestic  love,  of  individual  character.     This  is  the 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


107 


bright  side  of  that  ancient  and  august  possession,  which 
has  steadied  the  course  of  our  onward  progress,  and 
given  us  peace  in  the  midst  of  tumults,  and  freedom 
in  the  midst  of  disorder.  It  is  because  of  the  greatness 
of  this  possession,  that  we  so  fervently  pray  and  hope 
tliat  he  who  is  its  destined  heir  shall  be  worthy  of  his 
noble  inheritance.  He  knows,  and  we  know,  that  on 
him  henceforth,  as  by  a  new  consecration  and  confirma- 
tion, devolves  the  glorious  task  of  devoting  to  his 
country's  service  that  life  which  is  in  a  special  sense 
no  longer  his  but  ours,  for  which  his  country's  prayers, 
his  country's  thanksgivings  have  been  so  earnestly 
offered.  He  knows,  as  few  in  like  positions  have 
known,  the  mighty  power  for  good  which  has,  within 
our  own  memory,  been  exercised  in  that  lofty  sphere 
by  one  who,  from  early  manhood  to  his  sudden  and  un- 
timely end,  wore  "  the  white  flower  of  a  blameless  life," 
unscathed  and  unspotted  even  in  that  "  fierce  light  which 
beats  upon  a  throne."  He  has  learned  by  the  experi- 
ence of  these  eventful  weeks,  he  has  had  borne  in  upon 
him  by  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  of  voices,  that 
"of  him  to  whom  much  has  been  given,  of  him  shall 
much  be  required."  Hardly  ever,  in  the  long  course 
of  our  history,  has  so  heart-stirring  a  prospect  been 
opened,  of  beginning  life  afresh,  of  taking  the  lead  in 
all  that  is  true  and  holy,  just  and  good,  of  finding  in 
the  hundred  calls  of  duty  a  hundred  openings  for  the 
best  and  purest  enjoyment,  of  strengthening  the  relaxed 
fibre,  if  so  be,  of  English  morals,  of  raising  and  purify- 
ing the  homes  of  the  poor  and  the  tone  of  every  grade 
of  English  society,  of  becoming  by  the  sheer  force  of  a 
stainless  and  guileless  life  a  terror,  not  to  good  works, 
but  to  the  evil. 

Over  the  tomb  of  a  famous  Prince,  who  lies  buried 
in  this  Abbey,  and  whose  first  entrance  on  a  new  career 


108 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


of  goodness  and  usefulness  began  from  the  moment 
when  he  stood  by  his  father's  deathbed  within  these 
precincts,  there  is  carved  the  flaming  beacon  or  cresset 
light,  which,  says  the  ancient  chronicler,  "he  took  for 
his  badge,  showing  thereby  that  as  his  virtues  and  good 
parts  had  been  formerly  obscured,  and  lay  as  a  dead 
coal  waiting  light  to  kindle  it,  .  .  .  notwithstanding 
he  being  now  come  to  his  perfecter  years  and  riper 
understanding,  .  .  .  his  virtues  should  now  shine  forth 
as  the  light  of  a  cresset,  which  is  no  ordinary  light." 
Such  a  kindling  of  such  a  beacon  light,  which  shall 
reach  as  far  as  the  fame  of  this  Thanksgiving  has  pene- 
trated—  such  may  God  grant  to  him  whom  the  nation 
hopes  by  its  prayers  to  have  won  back  to  itself  forever. 
"  Give,  Oh  give  thy  servant  wisdom  and  knowledge, 
that  he  may  go  out  and  come  in  before  this  people  .  .  . 
that  is  so  great."  "  The  Lord  preserve  his  going  out 
and  his  coming  in,  from  this  time  forth  for  evermore." 

But  if  this  be  what  we  expect  from  the  Throne,  let 
us  ask  ourselves  what  the  Monarchy,  what  the  Empire, 
what  the  world  expects  from  us.  It  is  the  glory  of 
England  that  if  the  welfare  of  the  Prince  is  the  welfare 
of  the  people,  not  less  is  the  well-being  of  the  people 
the  only  safeguard  of  the  well-being  of  the  Prince.  It 
is  not  with  us,  as  in  some  Eastern  or  despotic  States, 
where  the  Royal  House  dwells  apart,  withdrawn  from 
all  the  surrounding  influences  of  the  country  or  the  age 
in  which  their  lot  is  cast.  The  breath  of  public  opin- 
ion, of  good  or  evil  example,  in  our  mixed  and  varied 
society,  rises  upwards  as  much  as  it  descends  down- 
wards. 

It  is  in  our  power,  in  the  power  of  the  people  of  Eng- 
land, to  drag  down  the  Throne,  even  in  spite  of  itself, 
to  the  level,  if  so  be,  of  our  own  meanness,  triviality, 
or  self-indulgence,  as  it  is,  thank  God,  also  in  our  power, 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


109 


by  the  purity  of  our  homes,  by  the  sincerity  and  the 
loftiness  of  our  purposes,  to  create  the  atmosphere  in 
which  the  Throne  must  become  pure  and  lofty,  because 
it  cannot  help  receiving  the  influences  which  ascend  to 
it  from  below  and  from  around.  We,  by  raising  up  a 
constant  succession  of  just,  upright,  loyal,  single-minded 
citizens,  of  enlightened  and  energetic  teachers,  of  far- 
seeing  and  unselfish  statesmen,  form  a  body-guard 
around  the  Royal  House  of  England,  even  as  the 
statues  and  monuments  of  famous  Englishmen  in  this 
Abbey  stand  like  a  guard  of  honor  round  the  shrines 
which  contain  the  dust  of  our  Princes  and  our  Kings. 
Any  breach  in  that  sacred  line  of  honest  English  hearts, 
any  failure  of  duty,  of  vigilance,  or  of  faithfulness  on 
our  part  lays  open  the  way -for  the  destroyer  to  come 
in  and  lay  waste  the  innermost  sanctuary  of  the  State 
itself.  Our  prayers,  our  thanksgivings,  if  they  are  to 
last  beyond  the  passing  moment,  must  take  the  shape, 
not  of  idle  flattery  or  fond  endearments,  but  of  stern 
requirements  of  duty  both  from  others  and  from  our- 
selves. 

We  look  down  with  mingled  indignation  and  con- 
tempt on  the  miserable  outrages  attempted  in  former 
3rears  against  the  Gracious  Majesty  of  these  realms. 
We  are  accustomed  to  regard  with  scorn  the  handful 
of  misguided  men,  who  seek  to  win  popular  favor  by 
appeals  to  the  prejudices,  the  passions,  and  the  igno- 
rance of  the  people.  But  let  us  remember  that  these 
are  not  the  only  or  the  chief  dangers  against  which  the 
Nation  is  bound  to  protect  the  Throne.  If  there  be, 
as  there  have  been  in  other  times  and  in  other  coun- 
tries, those  who,  hovering  round  the  footsteps  of  the 
great,  either  for  their  own  selfish  ends,  or  from  mere 
weakness  and  complaisance,  or  from  mere  vanity  of 
vanities,  strive  to  serve  them  by  smoothing  the  path  to 


110 


THE  DAT  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


sin,  by  making  a  mock  at  goodness,  by  hiding  the  un- 
welcome truth,  or  repeating  the  welcome  falsehood; 
if  there  be  any  who,  under  the  guise  of  friends,  play 
the  part  of  tempter  and  evil  counsellor,  who  lie  in  wait 
for  every  occasion  to  natter,  to  indulge,  and  to  corrupt 
—  if  there  be  any  such  anywhere,  these,  far  more  than 
wild  fanatics  or  the  feeble  parasites  of  the  multitude, 
these  are  the  real  traitors,  the  real  enemies  of  Sover- 
eign, Prince,  and  people  all  alike. 

It  is  for  the  growth  of  such  as  these  that  we,  the 
nation  of  England,  are,  in  great  measure,  responsible 
before  God  and  man.  They  are  bone  of  our  bone  and 
flesh  of  our  flesh.  It  is  by  our  levity,  if  so  be.  that  char- 
acters such  as  these  are  encouraged  in  their  wretched 
folly,  as  it  is  by  our  firmness  that  they  are  discouraged 
and  cowed.  They  come  out  when  the  moral  atmosphere 
has  been  made  dark  around  them,  '-wherein  all  the 
beasts  of  the  forest  creep  forth  for  their  prey."  But 
"  when  the  sun  ariseth."  when  the  bright  burning  light 
of  a  sound  public  opinion  is  brought  to  bear  upon  them, 
M  they  get  themselves  together  and  lay  them  down  again 
in  their  dens." 

On  these  then,  and  such  as  these,  whosoever  they  be, 
men  or  women,  high  or  low,  the  Day  of  Thanksgiving 
is  or  ought  to  be  a  Day  of  Doom.  Against  these,  and 
such  as  these,  the  nation  is  called  upon  to  echo  the 
voice  of  most  just  judgment  that  goes  up  from  every 
honest  heart.  On  these,  if  on  any  human  being  what- 
ever. Christian  society,  English  society,  ought  to  place 
its  deliberate  ban,  its  unmistakable  mark  of  righteous 
indignation.  Whatever  ma}-  have  been  before,  yet  now, 
if  after  the  experience  of  these  never-to-be-forgotten 
weeks  and  days  —  if,  after  this  solemn  recognition  of 
the  value  of  our  great  institutions,  of  the  incalculable 
importance  of  the  character  of  our  rulers  —  if,  after 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


Ill 


this,  the  nation  relaxes  its  hold  on  the  high  vocation, 
which  has  thus  been  marked  out,  our  last  state  shall 
indeed  be  worse  than  our  first.  If,  after  this,  any  such 
as  I  have  described,  shall  be  found,  betraying,  mislead- 
ing, ensnaring  those  whom  by  every  call,  human  and 
divine,  they  are  bound  to  lead  into  all  good  and  keep 
from  all  evil,  such,  if  there  be  any  such,  deserve  the 
contempt  of  man  and  the  vengeance  of  God,  as  amongst 
the  meanest,  or  the  weakest,  or  the  most  detestable  of 
mankind. 

There  is  yet  one  more  topic  on  which  I  would  dwell. 
In  those  ancient  days  of  the  Jewish  monarchy  and  Jew- 
ish people  to  which  the  text  belongs,  it  was  customary, 
on  solemn  occasions  when,  as  we  read,  "  the  King  and 
the  people  made  a  covenant  with  each  other  and  with 
God,"  to  erect  some  monument,  some  towering  pillar, 
some  massive  altar,  as  a  permanent  witness  to  them- 
selves and  to  the  world,  in  order  that  they  and  all 
might  forever  be  reminded  of  what  they  had  pledged 
themselves  to  do.  It  was  a  just  and  natural  safeguard. 
Human  emotions  are  so  transitory  that  they  need  some 
such  external  monument  or  form  in  which  they  may 
be  consolidated  and  fixed.  Such  a  monument  we  are 
asked  now  to  erect  —  most  suitable  to  the  occasion, 
most  lasting  in  duration,  most  significant  to  the  eye 
and  the  mind  of  England  for  all  future  time. 

It  is  the  restoration,  the  completion  of  the  great  met- 
ropolitan Cathedral  of  St.  Paul,  that  witnessed  the  sol- 
emn service  which  we  here  this  day,  in  the  sister  Abbey 
of  St.  Peter,  have  also  met,  in  our  humbler  measure,  to 
commemorate.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  varying 
characteristics  of  these  two  venerable  and  majestic 
Churches,  that,  whilst  the  Abbey  of  Westminster  is 
interwoven  by  a  gradual,  silent,  continuous  chain,  as 
by  the  links  of  "natural  piety,"  with  the  even  tenor, 


112 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


the  stately  pageants,  the  silent  departures  of  our  coun- 
try's rulers  and  heroes,  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  derives  its 
historical  interest  from  single  stirring  incidents,  from 
the  sudden  and  terrible  vicissitudes  of  its  own  rise  and 
fall,  from  the  thunders  of  the  Reformation  at  its  pulpit 
cross.  It  has  received  the  burst  of  national  exultation 
at  the  destruction  of  the  Armada,  the  victories  of  Blen- 
heim and  of  Trafalgar.  It  has  mourned  with  a  mourn- 
ing people  over  the  graves  of  Nelson  and  Wellington — 

Who  is  he  that  cometh,  like  an  honor'd  guest, 
With  a  nation  weeping,  and  breaking  on  my  rest? 
Mighty  seaman,  this  is  he 
Was  great  by  land  as  thou  by  sea. 

It  has  rejoiced  with  the  universal  rejoicing  at  the  unex- 
pected recovery  of  an  aged  Sovereign  at  the  close  of 
the  century  that  is  past.  It  has  now  rejoiced,  yet  again, 
with  the  still  wider  joy,  over  the  yet  more  wonderful 
restoration  of  the  youthful  Prince.  In  the  circles  of  that 
same  dome,  round  those  same  wide-embracing  walls,  that 
witnessed  the  covenant,  as  it  may  well  be  called,  be- 
tween the  Heir  of  the  Throne  and  his  future  people, 
shall  now  be  carried  on  that  glorious  work  which  the 
mighty  architect  of  the  Cathedral  was  compelled  to 
leave  unfinished,  which  its  most  venerable  historian 
and  illustrious  divine  labored  in  vain  to  accomplish,  but 
which,  when  completed,  shall  make  the  great  Protes- 
tant Cathedral  of  England  worthy  to  look  in  the  face 
the  great  Roman  Basilica,  of  which  it  is  even  now  a 
noble  rival,  —  worthy  also  of  the  magnificent  future 
which  more  and  more  seems  opening  before  it,  as  the 
centre  of  instruction  and  edification  to  the  thousands 
of  worshippers,  week  by  week,  assembled  within  its 
almost  illimitable  space. 

For  such  a  completion  as  this  the  greatness  of  the 


THE  DAY  OF  THANKSGIVING. 


113 


Imperial  Thanksgiving  demands  the  united  help  of 
the  British  Empire.  For  such  a  completion  as  this,  let 
every  Englishman  give,  far  and  near,  according  to  his 
means.  Let  none  think  they  can  give  too  much,  let 
none  think  their  contributions  too  insignificant,  to  com- 
memorate a  day  in  which  they  have  all  taken  part  — 
towards  a  great  work,  a  world-renowned  edifice,  which 
ought  to  have  been  finished  long  ago,  which,  so  long 
as  a  National  Church  exists  amongst  us,  every  English- 
man may  call  his  own,  from  the  Queen  in  her  palace 
down  to  the  humblest  peasant  or  the  most  remote  Non- 
conformist, throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
land. 

And  when,  in  after  days,  Prince  and  people  alike 
shall  gaze  with  admiration  on  its  vast  interior,  bright 
with  all  the  splendors  which  art  and  wealth  can  bestow, 
as  even  now  they  look  from  far  on  those  sublime  pro- 
portions which  rise  above  all  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this 
bewildering  multitudinous  city — may  he  and  we  be 
ever  reminded  of  the  solemn  thoughts  which  have  now 
filled  our  hearts,  may  he  and  we  be  always  able  to  look 
back  upon  this  week  with  thankfulness  and  not  with 
shame,  may  he  and  we  then  behold  in  that  august  edi- 
fice a  standing  memorial  of  good  resolutions,  not  broken 
but  accomplished  ;  of  noble  hopes,  not  disappointed  but 
fulfilled ;  of  splendid  opportunities,  not  lost  but  cher- 
ished to  the  utmost ;  of  generous  devotion,  on  our  part, 
to  our  Queen  and  country,  not  wasted  in  party  strife 
but  spent  in  the  common  good ;  of  love  for  God's  holy 
Name,  not  shown  in  futile  and  fierce  disputes  about 
trifles  but  in  the  great  causes  of  justice,  charity,  and 
truth!  May  we  all  be  able  to  say  ten,  twenty  years 
hence,  with  as  much  sincerity  as  now,  "  I  was  glad 
when  they  said  unto  me,  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of 
the  Lord ! " 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


October  11,  1875,  being  the  day  preceding  the  departure  of  H.R.H.  the 
Prince  of  Wales  for  India. 

Now  it  came  to  pass  in  the  days  of  Ahasuerus,  (this  is  Ahasuerus 
which  reigned,  from  India  even  unto  Ethiopia,  over  an  hundred  and 
seven  and  twenty  provinces). 

There  is  a  certain  people  scattered  abroad  and  dispersed  among  the 
people  in  all  the  provinces  of  thy  kingdom. 

How  can  I  endure  to  see  the  evil  that  shall  come  unto  my  people  ?  or 
how  can  I  endure  to  see  the  destruction  of  my  kindred  ?  —  Esther  i.  1 ; 
iii.  8;  viii.  6. 

We  have  reached  that  point  in  the  Lessons  in  our 
Church  Services  where  the  history  of  the  people  of 
Israel  blends  with  the  history  of  the  other  nations  of 
the  earth  —  Babylon,  Persia,  Greece,  and  Rome.  I  pro- 
pose to  take,  as  the  subject  of  my  sermon,  a  book  which 
is  more  exclusively  devoted  to  this  outside  world  than 
any  other  book  in  the  Bible,  and  which,  perhaps  on  this 
account,  is  never  read  in  our  Sunday  services.  It  is  the 
Book  of  Esther. 

The  scene  of  the  Book  of  Esther  is  not  Palestine, 
but  Persia ;  not  Jerusalem,  but  Shushan  or  Susa.  The 
king  Ahasuerus  is  that  famous  prince  whom  we  know 
in  Grecian  story  under  the  name  of  Xerxes.  The 
events  took  place  in  the  palace  of  Susa,  in  the  great 
hall  of  which  we  know  the  exact  form  and  figure  from 
that  of  which  the  ruins  still  remain  at  Persepolis  —  the 
most  magnificent  hall,  it  is  believed,  that  ever  was  raised 
for  regal  splendor.    There  sate  "the  great  king,"  as  he 

114 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


115 


was  called,  surrounded  by  the  seven  princes  of  the 
realm.  Round  his  throne  we  trace  the  peculiar  customs 
of  the  Persian  Court,  which,  with  but  little  change, 
have  continued  down  to  the  present  day. 

What  is  it  which,  with  all  these  foreign  associations, 
gives  to  such  a  book  its  place  in  the  records  of  the 
chosen  people  ?  It  is  because  it  is  the  description  of 
the  most  signal  deliverance  of  the  vast  body  of  Jews, 
who  were  settled  throughout  the  different  countries 
comprised  in  the  vast  territory  of  the  Persian  Empire. 
"  There  is  a  certain  people  scattered  abroad  and  dis- 
persed among  all  the  people  in  all  the  provinces  of  thy 
kingdom,  and  their  laws  are  diverse  from  all  people." 
Such  was  the  account  given  of  them  to  Ahasuerus,  and 
we  know  from  other  sources  how  true  it  was.  Along 
the  banks  of  the  river  Euphrates  numbers  had  remained, 
with  schools  and  universities  and  sacred  places ;  so  that 
it  was  a  proverb,  "  Whoever  dwells  in  Babylon  is  as 
though  he  dwelt  in  the  land  of  Israel."  High  up  in  the 
mountains  of  Kurdistan  the  descendants  of  those  who 
were  transplanted  thither  are  said  to  be  found  even  to 
the  present  time.  In  the  green  fields  of  Egypt  there 
was  a  powerful  colony  established,  which  afterwards 
formed  the  materials  of  the  great  Jewish  community  in 
Alexandria. 

These  settlements  were  suddenly  doomed  to  destruc- 
tion by  one  of  those  violent  acts  which  characterize  the 
policy  of  Eastern  sovereigns.  The  anger  of  Hainan, 
the  king's  chief  minister,  was  roused  against  one  of  this 
body  because  he  refused  to  do  reverence  before  a  mortal 
man  ;  and  in  his  anger  he  included  the  whole  race. 
Posts,  after  the  manner  of  the  Persian  Empire,  were 
sent  into  all  the  provinces  "  to  destroy,  to  kill,  and  to 
cause  to  perish,  all  Jews,  both  young  and  old,  little 
children  and  women,  in  one  day,  even  upon  the  thir- 


116 


ENGLAND  AND  rNDIA. 


teenth  day  of  the  twelfth  month,  which  is  the  month 
Aclar." 

This  is  the  subject  of  the  book,  and  its  main  interest 
hinges  on  the  mode  of  the  deliverance.  They  were 
delivered  by  what  we  might  call  three  remarkable  coin- 
cidences, any  one  of  which  would  have  failed  of  itself, 
but  all  together  combined  to  produce  the  result  as 
surely  as  if  the  Divine  Presence  had  been  manifested 
in  flames  of  fire,  or  with  twelve  legions  of  angels. 
There  was  the  singular  chance,  as  we  should  say,  that, 
owing  to  a  quarrel  in  the  Court  of  Susa,  a  Jewish 
captive  was  at  that  critical  period  the  favorite  queen 
of  the  Persian  king,  and  that  she  had  the  spirit  and 
courage,  at  the  risk  of  her  own  life,  to  reveal  her  origin, 
and  to  plead  for  the  lives  of  her  countrymen.  There 
was  next  the  accident,  that  the  king,  on  a  sleepless 
night,  was  suddenly  reminded  of  a  service  that  years 
before  he  had  received  from  the  hands  of  Mordecai. 
There  was,  lastly,  the  good  fortune  that  when  Haman 
east  the  lot  at  the  beginning  of  the  year,  to  find  an 
auspicious  moment  for  the  execution  of  his  designs,  it 
postponed  the  time  from  day  to  day,  and  from  month  to 
month,  till  it  was  deferred  to  the  thirteenth  day  of  the 
very  last  month  of  the  year.  According  to  the  custom 
of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  which  forbade  any  royal 
decree  to  be  altered,  it  was  impossible  for  the  king, 
even  on  the  entreaty  of  Esther  and  Mordecai,  to  with- 
draw his  rash  and  cruel  order ;  yet,  owing  to  this  long 
interval,  there  was  still  time  left  to  issue  a  counter 
decree,  permitting  the  Jews  in  every  city  to  gather  to- 
gether and  defend  themselves  to  the  death.  It  was  still 
early  in  the  year  —  still  the  third  month  —  when  this 
second  decree  was  issued ;  and  in  the  interval  which 
thus  elapsed,  before  the  dreaded  thirteenth  da}-  of  the 
twelfth  month  arrived,  they  had  time  fully  to  organize 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


117 


their  defence ;  and  when  at  last  the  attack  was  made, 
the  spirit  of  their  enemies  was  broken  down,  "  the  fear 
of  them  fell  on  all  people ; "  the  rulers  of  the  provinces 
helped  them;  they  stood  at  bay  against  the  hunters  of 
their  lives,  "  and  no  man  could  withstand  them." 

I.  Such  briefly  are  the  main  points  of  the  story  of 
Esther.    Let  us  now  ask  what  lessons  are  taught  by  it. 

(1.)  First,  then,  let  us  turn  to  the  structure  of  the 
story  itself.  In  one  respect  the  Book  of  Esther  stands 
absolutely  alone  amongst  all  the  books  both  of  the  Old 
and  the  New  Testament.  From  one  end  of  it  to  the 
other  the  name  of  God,  so  common  everywhere  else,  is 
entirely  absent.  So  startling  has  this  peculiarity  seemed 
that  in  the  early  times  of  the  Christian  Church  there 
were  those  who  wished  to  exclude  the  book  from  the 
Scriptures  altogether,  while  others,  as  we  may  see  from 
the  additions  which  we  find  in  the  Apocrypha,  endeav- 
ored to  introduce  and  invent  the  religious  phrases  which 
the  original  narrative  did  not  contain. 

■But  it  is  this  very  peculiarity  of  the  Book  of  Esther 
which  is  so  instructive.  It  is  necessary  for  us  that  in 
the  rest  of  the  sacred  volume  the  name  of  God  should 
constantly  be  brought  before  us,  to  show  that  He  is  all 
in  all  to  us  and  to  the  world.  But  it  is  expedient  for 
us  no  less  that  there  should  be  one  book  which  omits  it 
altogether,  to  prevent  us  from  attaching  to  the  mere 
name  a  reverence  which  belongs  only  to  the  reality. 
We  cannot  doubt  that  Esther  and  Mordecai  were  really 
animated  by  the  faith  and  love  of  God.  We  cannot 
doubt  that  the  quarrel  of  Ahasuerus,  the  sleepless  night, 
the  delay  of  the  lot,  although  all  these  occurrences  were 
what  we  should  call  accidents,  yet  worked  out  the  will 
of  God.  as  completely  as  the  parting  of  the  Red  Sea  or 
the  thunders  of  Sinai.  Let  the  Book  of  Esther  be  a 
token  to  us  that  in  the  daily  events,  the  unforeseen 


118 


ENGLAXD  AXD  INDIA. 


chances,  of  life,  God  is  surely  present ;  that  in  little 
unremembered  acts,  in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow,  in  the  earth 
bringing  forth  fruit  of  herself,  springing  and  growing 
up  into  a  bountiful  harvest,  we  know  not  how,  His  will 
is  accomplished  as  truly  as  by  fire  and  earthquake.  The 
name  of  God  is  not  there,  but  the  work  of  God  is. 

Let  us  learn  from  the  admission  of  such  a  book  into 
the  Bible  not  to  make  a  man  an  offender  for  a  word  or 
for  the  omission  of  a  word.  There  may  be  many  who, 
without  any  outward  confession  of  faith,  are  as  faithful 
servants  of  God  as  those  who  are  full  of  religious  expres- 
sions ;  many  who.  from  reverence  or  reserve,  or  want  of 
fluent  discourse,  abstain  altogether  in  public  from  using 
the  names  of  God  and  of  Christ,  and  yet  are  true  ser- 
vants of  God,  true  missionaries  of  Christ,  bv  deed  or 
look,  though  not  by  word.  M  There  is  neither  speech 
nor  language,  but  their  voices  are  heard  among  them. 
Their  sound  is  gone  out  into  all  lands,  and  their  words 
unto  the  ends  of  the  world." 

By  acts  of  silent  goodness,  by  a  humble  faith,  that 
does  not  express  itself  in  speech,  the  presence  of  God  is 
often  as  surely  indicated  as  in  the  actual  calling  on  His 
name  in  prayer  and  praise,  in  teaching  and  preaching. 

When  Esther  nerved  herself  to  enter,  at  the  risk  of 
her  life,  the  presence  of  Ahasuerus  —  "I  will  go  in  unto 
the  king,  and  if  I  perish.  I  perish  —  when  her  patriotic 
feeling  vented  itself  in  that  noble  cry,  "  How  can  I  en- 
dure to  see  the  evil  that  shall  come  unto  my  people? 
or  how  can  I  endure  to  see  the  destruction  of  my  kin- 
dred?"—  she  expressed,  although  she  never  named  the 
name  of  God,  a  religious  devotion  as  acceptable  to  Him 
as  that  of  Moses  and  David,  who  no  less  sincerely  had 
the  sacred  name  always  on  their  hps. 

It  is  the  same  truth  as  is  conveyed  by  our  great 
dramatist,  when  he  describes  how,  amongst  the  three 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


119 


daughters  of  the  British  king,  the  true  affection  was  to 
be  found,  not  in  the  two  that  made  the  loudest  profes- 
sions, but  in  the  one  who,  from  fear  of  overstepping  in 
the  least  degree  the  bounds  of  truth,  answered  nothing, 
and  kept  all  the  proof  of  her  love  for  the  tender  care 
which  she  showed  when  all  others  turned  against  him :  — 

Thy  youngest  daughter  does  not  love  thee  least ; 
Nor  are  those  empty-hearted  whose  low  sound 
Reverbs  no  hollowness. 

(2.)  Secondly,  our  attention  is  called  to  the  great 
significance,  not  merely  of  the  Jewish  community  which 
was  fixed  in  the  Holy  Land  and  in  the  Holy  City,  but 
of  that  vast  body  of  Jews  scattered  over  the  world,  and 
known  by  the  name  of  the  Dispersion.  What,  we  may 
ask,  was  the  importance  of  their  preservation?  We 
have  only  to  look  at  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  to  see, 
far  more  surely  than  Esther  or  Mordecai  saw,  the  infinite 
consequences  of  their  exertions,  of  God's  intervention 
at  that  moment.  It  was  those  very  congregations  of 
dispersed  Israelites  that  furnished  the  link  between 
Jews  and  Gentiles  through  which  the  Gospel  spread 
from  one  to  the  other.  What  the  Jews  in  Palestine 
and  Jerusalem  were  for  the  first  foundation  of  Chris- 
tianity, that  the  Jews  in  Babylonia,  in  Egypt,  in  Asia 
Minor,  in  Greece,  in  Italy,  were  for  its  subsequent  prop- 
agation. From  their  ranks  came  Stephen  and  Apollos, 
Barnabas  and  Paul ;  out  of  them  were  formed  in  every 
instance  the  nucleus,  the  basis,  round  which  the  Gentile 
Churches  gathered.  From  the  earnest  prayer  of  Esther 
to  Ahasuerus,  from  the  various  chances  which  aided  that 
prayer,  was  drawn,  by  a  long  succession  of  consequences, 
the  golden  chain  which  has  brought  the  isles  of  the 
Gentiles  into  the  Church  of  God. 

These  are  the  chief  religious  lessons  of  the  Book  of 


120 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


Esther.  The  details  of  the  Imperial  splendor  and  the 
strange  intrigues  of  the  Court  of  Xerxes,  however  in- 
teresting in  an  historical  point  of  view,  have  no  special 
edification  for  us.  The  bitterness  of  Esther  against 
Hainan's  innocent  family  belongs  to  the  hardness  of 
that  old  dispensation  which  is  condemned  by  Christ  our 
Lord,  and  which  the  Jewish  race  themselves,  at  least  in 
this  country,  have  long  since  laid  aside.  The  fierce 
anathemas  that  once  were  uttered  in  their  synagogues 
whenever  the  feast  of  Purim  was  celebrated  —  stamping 
with  their  feet  and  shaking  their  fists  whenever  the 
name  of  Haman  was  mentioned  —  have  dropped  out  of 
their  worship,  as  the  like  expressions  are  gradually  dis- 
appearing from  Christian  worship  also. 

It  was  for  these  harsher  and  more  worldly  character- 
istics of  the  Book  of  Esther  that  Luther  hesitated  to 
receive  it  into  the  Bible.  "  It  is  too  full,"  he  said,  "  of 
heathenish  naughtiness,  and  it  Judaizes  too  much."  Yet, 
amidst  that  "  heathenish  naughtiness  "  and  that  narrow 
Judaic  spirit,  it  carries  with  it  lessons  of  enduring 
value  for  all  time.  It  is  a  book  which,  in  spite  of  all 
its  defects,  ranked  amongst  the  Jews  as  the  very  most 
precious  portion  of  the  whole  Bible  after  the  Law  — 
more  precious  than  even  the  Prophets,  or  Psalms,  or 
Proverbs.  We  need  not  rank  it  so  high  as  this.  We 
perhaps  may  regard  it  as  the  least  important  of  all  the 
sacred  books.  But  even  this  humblest  part  of  the  Bible 
is  not  without  its  use  if  it  can  teach  us  those  inestima- 
ble lessons  of  silent  courageous  patriotism  which  are  as 
much  needed  in  England  as  in  Persia,  and  those  duties 
of  energy  and  self-denial  which  are  as  essential  for 
Christians  as  for  Jews. 

II.  Let  us  apply  the  story  more  especially  to  our- 
selves. 

Is  there  any  race  of  men,  now,  as  were  then  the  dis- 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


121 


persed  J ews,  with  like  high  issues  dependent  on  their 
good  or  evil  fortune  ? 

"  There  is,"  now;  as  there  was  then,  "  a  people  scat- 
tered abroad  and  dispersed  through  all  the  provinces," 
not  of  one  kingdom  only,  but  of  an  almost  boundless 
empire  —  raised  up,  and  preserved,  through  a  long  suc- 
cession of  ages,  by  a  protection  not  indeed  miraculous, 
but  as  truly  providential  as  that  by  which  the  Jews 
were  saved  in  the  time  of  Esther  —  a  people  the  fear 
of  whom  is  on  all  the  nations  in  a  wider  and  better 
sense  than  was  that  of  the  Jews  on  the  heathens  with 
whom  they  dwelt  —  a  nation  with  power  and  knowledge 
such  as  make  it  in  a  still  higher  degree  than  those  an- 
cient Jewish  colonies,  "  a  light  to  lighten  the  Gentiles, 
and  to  be  the  glory  of  God's  people  Israel." 

We  all  know  without  another  word  what  that  nation 
is.  It  is  ourselves  —  we  say  it  in  no  boastful  spirit  — 
our  own  widely  dispersed  English,  British,  Anglo-Saxon 
race. 

And  to  speak  only  of  one  portion  of  that  great  dis- 
persion of  Englishmen,  there  is  that  vast  Eastern  Em- 
pire of  which  the  name  is  for  the  first  time  mentioned 
in  the  Bible  in  the  first  words  of  the  Book  of  Esther : 
—  "  This  is  Ahasuerus,  which  reigned  from  India  even 
unto  Ethiopia."  In  India,  so  marvellously  acquired, 
sometimes  by  force  and  fraud,  sometimes  by  just  and 
beneficent  rule ;  in  India,  whose  trophies  fill  many  a 
niche  in  this  church ;  in  India,  so  mercifully  saved  to' 
us  through  dangers  and  escapes  as  remarkable  as  any 
that  are  recorded  by  history ;  in  India,  whose  ancient 
religion,  philosophy,  and  language  have  in  our  genera- 
tion been  for  the  first  time  brought  to  light  by  the  la- 
bors of  German  and  English  scholars;  in  India,  glori- 
fied with  a  dubious  splendor  by  the  names  of  Clive  and 
Hastings,  and  sanctified,  with  a  purer  and  milder  lustre, 


122 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


by  statesmen  like  Bentinck,  soldiers  like  Havelock, 
missionaries  like  Henry  Martyn,  pastors  like  Heber  and 
Cotton  —  in  that  vast  province  of  the  British  Empire, 
surely,  if  nowhere  else,  we  as  Englishmen  have  to  ex- 
press, our  thankfulness,  as  truly  as  ever  did  the  Jews 
of  old,  for  our  signal  deliverances,  for  that  eminent 
greatness  to  which  God  has  raised  us  in  former  times, 
and  from  which  in  these  latter  days  He  has  not  allowed 
us  to  be  cast  down. 

And  what  are  the  corresponding  duties?  Can  it  be 
doubted  that,  as  in  those  ancient  Jewish  settlements  of 
the  Dispersion,  so,  and  much  more,  in  all  those  various 
portions  of  the  world  whither  our  commerce,  and  our 
arms,  and  our  enterprise,  have  carried  us,  but  especially 
in  India,  the  sons  and  daughters  of  the  English  race 
are  the  true  missionaries  for  good  or  for  evil  to  the  rest 
of  mankind? 

Is  there  any  one  in  this  congregation  who  has  trav- 
elled or  has  intended  to  travel,  for  pleasure  or  for  busi- 
ness, to  those  distant  regions?  Is  there  any  one  who 
mourns  for  the  dead  received  back  from  those  danger- 
ous climes  only  just  in  time  to  breathe  at  home  their 
parting  breath,  or  who  looks  back  on  bright  courses  of 
usefulness,  prematurely  closed,  of  the  servants  of  their 
country  and  their  God,  sleeping  far  away  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  Himalayan  heights,  or  in  the  bed  of  the 
rolling  Ganges,  or  by  the  surf-beaten  shore  of  Madras  ? 
Is  there  any  one  who  has  friends,  brothers,  sons,  in  that 
Eastern  Empire  occupying  the  positions  almost  of 
kings,  with  an  influence  extending  over  vast  popula- 
tions such  as  will  never  again  fall  to  their  lot,  such  as 
rarely  falls  to  the  lot  of  any  human  being?  If  there 
be  any  such  (and  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  every  English 
congregation  that  there  may  be  such  in  every  church 
throughout  the  land),  let  them  remember  the  heavy 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


123 


responsibility,  the  glorious  privilege,  which  rests  upon 
them  and  theirs. 

The  Book  of  Esther  teaches  us  —  what  our  own  ex- 
perience and  common  sense  teach  no  less  —  that  it  is 
by  the  lives  as  well  as  by  the  lips,  by  deeds  as  well 
as  by  words,  nay,  by  deed  even  more  than  by  word,  of 
our  countrymen  in  foreign  parts,  that  the  truth  and 
beauty  of  Christian  life  and  Christian  doctrine  are  to 
be  made  known,  if  ever  Christianity  is  to  spread  be- 
yond its  present  limits.  The  name  of  God  may  per- 
chance be  withheld ;  but  the  presence  of  God  may  be 
made  as  clear  as  light.  According  as  an  English  trav- 
eller, an  English  soldier  or  sailor,  an  English  magis- 
trate or  merchant,  an  English  governor,  presents  an 
image  of  justice  or  injustice,  of  purity  or  impurity,  of 
reverence  or  of  profaneness,  of  kindly  appreciation  or 
of  dull  indifference,  will  be  the  likeness  which  the 
Mahometan  and  the  Hindoo  will  form  in  their  own 
minds,  and  retain  perhaps  to  their  dying  day,  of  our 
country  and  our  religion.  According  as  the  life  and 
conduct  of  an  Englishman,  in  camp  or  in  field,  in  busi- 
ness or  in  pleasure,  attracts  or  repels,  conciliates  or 
offends,  elevates  or  corrupts,  those  with  whom  he 
comes  into  contact,  will  be  the  rapid  advance  or  the 
indefinite  delay  of  the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  sphere 
in  which  he  moves. 

It  is  recorded  that  some  Brahmins,  conversing  with 
the  Danish  missionary  Schwartz,  replied  to  his  argu- 
ments in  behalf  of  Christianity.  "  We  do  not  see  your 
Christian  people  live  according  to  that  Holy  Word. 
They  curse,  they  swear,  they  get  drunk ;  they  steal, 
they  cheat,  they  deal  fraudulently  with  one  another ; 
they  blaspheme  and  rail  upon  matters  of  religion,  or 
often  make  a  mock  of  those  who  profess  to  be  reli- 
gious ;  they  behave  themselves  as  badly,  if  not  worse, 


124 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


than  we  heathen.  Of  what  advantage  is  all  your  pro- 
fession of  Christ's  religion,  if  it  does  not  influence  the 
lives  of  your  own  countrymen?  Should  you  not  first 
endeavor  to  convert  your  own  countrymen  before  you 
attempt  to  proselytize  Pagans  ?  "  But  turning  to  him 
they  said,  "  Of  a  truth  you  are  a  holy  man,  and  if  all 
Christians  thought  and  spoke  and  lived  as  you  do,  we 
would  without  delay  undergo  the  change  and  become 
Christians  also." 

And  if  such  is  the  duty  of  those  who  are  thus  called 
to  foreign  parts,  What  is  that  of  those  who  remain  at 
home  ?  We  have  heard  it  a  thousand  times.  It  is  by 
all  the  means  in  our  power  to  build  up  and  strengthen 
all  the  elements  of  Christian  life  in  our  countrymen 
who  depart  from  us  to  fields  so  full  of  interest.  It  is 
for  us  to  make  them  feel  the  manifold  instruction  which 
they  may  receive,  as  in  a  second  education,  by  moving 
amongst  scenes  and  races  so  unlike  to  those  with  which 
they  have  hitherto  been  familiar. 

It  is  our  duty  to  foster  here,  in  the  focus  of  English 
civilization,  the  public  opinion,  the  private  influence, 
which  shall  keep  alive  in  our  countrymen  abroad  the 
conviction  that  of  those  "  to  whom  much  has  been  given 
shall  much  be  required."  It  is  according  as  we  treat 
their  conduct  with  levity  or  with  seriousness,  with  in- 
different apathy  or  with  generous  sympathy,  that  they 
will  go  out  to  their  callings  there  in  a  low  or  in  a  lofty 
spirit.  If  they  take  in  hand  so  great  an  enterprise 
unadvisedly,  lightly,  and  wantonly,  it  will  be  in  large 
measure  because  we  have  not  done  our  best  to  raise 
them  to  the  consciousness  of  their  high  vocation.  If 
we  insist  on  their  entering  upon  it  advisedly,  rever- 
ently, and  in  the  fear  of  God,  we  shall  have  delivered 
our  own  souls,  and  they,  it  may  be,  will  rise  to  the  level 
to  which  we  insist  that  they  shall  reach.    The  ancient 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


125 


founders,  the  ancient  princes,  of  the  Grecian  colonies 
took  out  with  them  to  their  distant  settlements  a  spark 
of  the  sacred  fire  which  was  always  kept  burning  on 
the  hearth  of  the  parent  country.  It  is  for  us  to  see 
that  the  sacred  fire  on  our  hearth  is  always  kept  bright 
and  pure.  If  its  ashes  grow  cold  with  us,  the  spark 
which  is  taken  from  it  will  dwindle  and  sink  far  away. 
If  it  blazes  warmly  here,  its  heat  will  be  felt  to  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  Empire.  And  when  we  think  how, 
amongst  those  dispersed  countrymen,  our  own  friends 
and  brothers  and  children  may  hereafter,  if  not  now,  be 
found ;  when  we  think  how  honorable  may  be  their 
success,  how  miserable  their  failure,  in  proportion  as 
their  opportunities  are  used  wisely  or  foolishly,  well  or 
ill  —  is  it  possible  to  help  joining  in  the  spirit  of 
Esther's  petition,  "  How  can  I  endure  to  see  the  evil 
that  shall  come  unto  my  people ;  or  how  can  I  endure 
to  see  the  destruction  of  my  kindred  ?  " 

We  were  roused  to  fury  in  the  days  of  the  Indian 
Mutiny.  We  could  not  endure  to  see,  we  could  not 
endure  to  hear,  of  the  evil  that  came  to  our  people  dur 
ing  that  dark  time.  We  could  not  endure  to  see  or  to 
hear  of  the  destruction  of  our  kindred  by  murder,  or 
pestilence,  or  famine.  But  surely  any  man  who  has 
in  him  (I  will  not  say  the  heart  of  a  Christian,  but)  the 
spirit  of  an  Englishman,  ought  to  feel  no  less  keenly, 
Huw  can  we  endure  to  see  the  evil  that  will  come  to 
our  people  far  away  by  our  careless  living,  by  our  folly 
or  recklessness,  by  our  insolence  or  intemperance  or 
indolence  ?  How  can  we  endure  to  see  the  moral  de- 
struction of  our  kindred,  the  imperilling  of  our  Empire, 
the  discrediting  of  our  name,  our  race,  and  our  religion, 
by  the  unworthiness  of  us  who  are  its  representatives 
and  its  witnesses  ? 

For  the  blessings  or  the  curses  which  accompany,  for 


126 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


the  good  or  evil  influences  which  inspire,  those  who  go 
forth  to  our  vast  dependencies,  or  who  rule  them,  or 
who  dwell  in  them,  we  who  form  the  public  opinion  of 
England  must  be  more  or  less  responsible.  It  is  the 
necessary  consequence  of  the  principle,  which  is  as  true 
in  the  State  as  in  the  Church,  that,  "  if  one  member 
suffer,  all  the  members  suffer  with  it ;  or  if  one  member 
be  honored,  all  the  members  rejoice  with  it." 

Many  of  you  will  have  perceived  why  this  subject 
has  been  chosen  for  our  thoughts  at  this  time,  when  for 
the  next  five  months  our  attention  will  be  specially 
turned  to  India.  To-morrow  the  first  Heir  of  the  Eng- 
lish throne  who  has  ever  visited  the  Indian  Empire 
starts  on  his  journey  to  those  distant  regions,  which  the 
greatest  of  his  ancestors,  Alfred  the  Great,  a  thousand 
years  ago,  longed  to  explore,  and  which  now  forms  the 
most  splendid  jewel  in  the  British  crown. 

On  this  eve  of  that  departure,  solemn  to  him  and 
solemn  to  us,  we  pray  that  the  Eldest  Son  of  our  Royal 
House,  in  whose  sickness  and  recovery,  four  years  since, 
the  whole  nation  took  so  deep  an  interest,  shall  now 
once  more  be  delivered  from  perils  by  land  and  perils 
by  sea,  from  "  the  terror  by  night  and  from  the  pesti- 
lence that  destroyeth  in  the  noonday ; "  we  pray  that 
he  may  be  restored  safe  and  sound  to  the  Mother,  the 
Wife,  and  the  little  children,  who  wait  with  anxious 
expectation  his  happy  and  prosperous  return. 

But  we  pray,  or  we  ought  to  pray,  yet  more  earnestly, 
that  his  journey  may  be  blessed  to  himself,  and  to  those 
whom  he  visits,  in  all  things  high  and  holy,  just  and 
pure,  lovely  and  of  good  report.  We  pray  that  he  and 
they  who  attend  him  may  feel  how  sacred  a  trust  is 
committed  to  them ;  we  pray  that  we  who  remain  be- 
hind may  never  ourselves  forget,  or  suffer  others  to  for- 


ENGLAND  AND  INDIA. 


127 


get,  how  arduous  aud  (if  so  be)  how  noble  a  duty 
they  have  undertaken.  We  pray  that  we,  by  our  sym- 
pathy in  all  that  is  good,  by  our  detestation  of  all  that 
is  base,  may,  like  those  of  old  time,  hold  up  the  sinking 
.  arms  and  strengthen  the  wavering  hands  of  those  who 
are  charged  with  the  responsibility  of  this  mission  of 
good-will,  of  duty,  and  of  hope.  We  pray  that  they 
may  be  so  filled  with  thcspirit  of  power,  of  love,  and  of 
a  sound  mind,  with  the  spirit  of  justice  and  wisdom, 
with  the  spirit  of  courtesy  and  purity,  that,  wheresoever 
they  go,  the  name  of  England  and  of  English  Christen- 
dom shall  be  not  dishonored,  but  honored ;  that  the 
fibre  of  Indian  society,  whether  amongst  our  country- 
men or  amongst  natives,  shall  not  be  relaxed,  but 
strengthened ;  that  the  standard  of  our  national  mo- 
rality shall  not  be  lowered,  but  raised ;  that  the  bonds 
of  affection  between  the  ruling  and  the  subject  races 
shall  be  not  loosened,  but  confirmed.  We  pray  that 
this  visit,  long  desired  and  at  last  undertaken,  to  those 
marvellous  lands,  may,  by  God's  merc}r,  leave  behind, 
on  the  one  side  (if  so  be)  the  remembrance  of  graceful 
acts,  kind  words,  English  nobleness,  Christian  principle, 
—  on  the  other  side,  awaken  or  renew,  in  all  concerned, 
the  sense  of  graver  duties,  wider  sympathies,  loftier 
purposes. 

Thus,  and  thus  only,  shall  that  journey  on  which  the 
Church  and  nation  now  pronounce  a  parting  benedic- 
tion, be  worthy  of  a  Christian  Empire  and  worthy  of 
an  English  Prince.  For  the  building  up,  in  truth  and 
righteousness,  of  that  Imperial  inheritance,  for  the  moral 
and  eternal  welfare  of  his  own  immortal  soul,  may  the 
Lord  preserve  his  going  out  and  his  coming  in,  from 
this  time  forth  for  evermore ! 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


May  14, 1876,  being  the  Sunday  after  the  return  of  the  Prince  of  "Wales 
from  India.  Preached  in  the  presence  of  their  Koyal  Highnesses,  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  the  Princess  of  "Wales,  the  Duke  of  Edinburgh,  and 
the  Duke  of  Connaught. 

/  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me,  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord.  —  Psalm  cxxii.  1. 

This  Psalm  is  one  of  a  series  from  the  120th  to  the 
134th,  which  are  called  in  our  version  M  The  Songs  of 
Degrees,"  hut  more  properly  "  The  Songs  of  the  Re- 
turn "  —  the  songs  in  which  the  Israelites,  after  their 
exile  hi  Babylon,  expressed  their  joy  at  finding  them- 
selves once  more  in  sight  or  in  prospect  of  home.  The 
Psalms  and  Prophecies  of  the  time  describe  the  delight 
with  which  the  travellers  started  on  their  westward  jour- 
ney ;  how  they  mounted  ridge  after  ridge,  and  caught 
the  first  view  of  their  own  1  country  ;  how  the  beacon- 
fires2  flashing  from  their  native  hills  welcomed  them 
onwards;  how  at  last  their  feet3  stood  "fast  within  thy 
gates,  O  Jerusalem."  This  is  one  part  of  the  feeling  of- 
the  Return  of  the  Exiles,  and  it  became  the  root  of  that 
patriotic  sentiment  which  flourished  henceforth  in  the 
Jewish  nation  with  a  vigor  never  known  before. 

There  is  another  feeling  in  the  background  which 
gives  additional  force  to  this  passionate  homesickness 
and  patriotic  fervor.  They  had  not  merely  been  absent 
from  home.     They  had  been  sojourning  in  a  mighty 

1  Ps.  cxxi.  1,  cxxvi.  1,  lxxxiv.  7.        2  Jer.  vi.  1.         8  Ps.  cxxii.  2. 
128 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 


129 


empire  wholly  unlike  their  own.  They  had  seen  the 
splendors  of  Babylon ;  they  had  mixed  with  the  princes 
and  potentates  of  Chaldea,  Persia,  and  Media  ;  they  had 
drunk  in  all  the  influences  of  those  far-off  seats  of  Ori- 
ental wisdom.  Their  ideas  of  religion,  of  history,  and 
of  science  had  become  enlarged.  If  in  some  respects 
they  were  a  lesser  nation  than  they  were  before  the 
Exile,  in  some  respects  they  were  much  greater.  For 
they  had  received  a  new  and  serious  impulse,  which 
ended  in  nothing  less  than  the  greatest  event  of  the 
world's  history  —  the  advent  of  Christianity. 

These,  then,  are  the  two  feelings  of  the  human  heart 
which  are  consecrated  by  the  Psalms  and  Prophets  of 
the  Return  —  The  value  of  Home ;  the  value  of  new 
and  wide  experience. 

(1.)  There  is  not  one  single  human  being  in  this  con- 
gregation to  whom  this  is  not  one  of  the  nearest  and 
dearest  thoughts.  There  is  not  one  of  us  who  does  not 
in  some  measure  respond  to  the  appeal  in  which  the 
poet  asks,  in  words  almost  too  familiar  to  be  quoted : 

Breathes  there  the  man  with  soul  so  dead 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

'  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land  ! ' 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burn'd, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turn'd 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand  ? 

There  has  not  been  a  generation  of  men  for  the  last 
three  thousand  years,  there  will  not  be  a  generation  of 
men  to  the  end  of  time,  in  which  some  will  not  read 
with  sympathy  that  story  on  which  the  greatest  master 
of  ancient  poetry  has  spent  all  his  art  —  which  tells  of 
the  return  of  Ulysses  after  his  long  absence ;  the  wife 
counting  the  weary  days  in  the  hills  of  Ithaca  ;  the  dog 
leaping  up  in  his  master's  face  and  dying  of  joy ;  the 
aged  servants  recognizing  their  long-lost  chief  as  he 


130       THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

treads  once  more  his  father's  threshold.  To  any  man 
worthy  of  the  name,  the  thoughts  of  mother,  and  wife, 
and  children,  and  brothers,  and  sisters,  are  amongst  the 
most  inspiring,  the  most  purifying,  the  most  elevating 
of  all  the  motives  which  God  has  given  us  to  steady  our 
steps,  and  guide  our  consciences,  and  nerve  us  for  duty, 
through  all  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life. 
Happy,  thrice  happy,  is  he  or  she  who  keeps  this  sanc- 
tuary pure  and  undefiled.  False  to  his  country,  and 
false  to  the  true  interests  and  the  holy  progress  of  mor- 
tals, is  he  or  she  who  undermines  or  betrays  it.  Not 
charity  only,  but  all  the  virtues  of  which  charity  is  the 
bond,  begin  and  end  at  Home. 

(2.)  And  yet  in  this  wide  world  Home  is  not,  nor 
can  be,  all.  Even  by  the  changing  scenes  of  this  life 
we  learn  that  "  here  we  have  no  abiding  city,"  but  are 
"  strangers  and  pilgrims  upon  earth ;  "  and  that  at  times 
it  is  good  for  us  to  be  so.  That  famous  story  of  the 
return  of  the  Grecian  chief  which  I  just  now  quoted 
derives  half  its  significance  from  the  tale  of  the  many 
cities  and  many  men  that  he  had  beheld  ;  of  the  perilous 
adventures  by  land  and  sea  that  he  had  encountered ; 
of  the  strange  forms  and  faces  that  had  passed  before 
him  since  he  quitted  the  shores  of  his  native  island. 
There  are  doubtless  many  to  whom  this  knowledge  is 
denied,  to  whom  the  same  circle  of  duties  and  of  pleas- 
ures suffices,  and  must  suffice,  from  year  to  year.  For 
such  "  untravelled  travellers  "  "  the  trivial  round,  the 
common  task,"  the  world-exploring  book,  or  the  un- 
fathomable depths  of  the  solitarj"  soul  in  joy  or  in  sor- 
row, may  take  the  place  of  the  largest  survey  or  the 
most  extraordinary  surprises  of  distant  scenes.  But 
for  those  who  have  been  allowed  to  wander  and  to 
return,  who  have  annexed  to  the  realm  of  their  own 
hearts  and  minds  the  sights  and  sounds  of  all  that  is 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES.  131 


greatest  and  strangest  on  earth  —  there  is  or  ought  to 
be  given  a  new  sense  of  the  greatness  of  God  and  of  man, 
a  new  lever  whereby  to  move  tbe  sluggish  world  within 
and  around  us,  a  new  zest  to  the  duties  of  our  own  spe- 
cial sphere,  a  new  glory  to  the  destinies  of  our  race. 

My  brethren,  You  will  have  perceived  what  has  led 
me  to  speak  to  you  on  this  double  subject.  There  has 
been  a  return  from  distant  wanderings,  in  which  the 
whole  country  has  taken  a  heartfelt  interest,  an  interest 
which  ought  to  make  every  one  of  us  ask  more  seriously 
what  is  the  blessing  of  Home,  and  what  is  the  blessing 
of  those  larger  experiences  which  lie  without. 

The  blessing  of  Home.  —  Is  there  a  mother,  wife, 
child,  who  cannot  understand  the  joy  which  welcomes 
back  a  dear  son,  a  beloved  husband,  an  affectionate 
father?  who  does  not  feel  the  heart  warmed  at  the 
thought  that  the  forebodings  and  pangs  of  the  parting 
seven  months  ago  are  now  past  and  gone ;  and  that  the 
delight  which  almost  all  of  us  have  known  under  like 
circumstances  is  shared  by  the  most  familiar,  because 
the  most  exalted,  household  in  the  land  ?  Is  there  any 
Englishman  or  any  Englishwoman  so  dead  to  the  great- 
ness of  our  country,  so  dead  to  the  instincts  of  human- 
ity, as  not  earnestly  to  desire  that  the  household  thus 
blessed  by  Providence  in  these  outward  deliverances 
from  sickness,  and  sorrow,  and  danger,  shall  be  blessed 
also  in  all  those  things  which  alone  can  make  a  home 
truly  happy  and  a  family  truly  noble  and  truly  royal  ? 
Can  we  any  of  us  fail  to  recognize  at  such  a  moment 
that  a  fresh  responsibility  is  laid  upon  all  those  who, 
whether  near  or  far,  have  any  concern  in  the  interests 
of  the  State  or  the  grandeur  of  the  Throne?  Ought 
we  not  all  to  feel  impelled  afresh  to  watch  with  double 
vigilance  over  their  welfare,  to  foster  with  every  en- 
couragement their  efforts  for  good  ?    Can  we  any  of  us 


132       THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WAXES. 


fail  to  be  assured  that  a  double  measure  of  infamy  and 
shame  will  be  the  deserved  judgment  on  those,  if  any 
there  be,  who  by  word  or  by  act,  by  speech  or  by 
silence,  make  temptation  more  easy,  or  goodness  more 
difficult,  or  duty  more  irksome,  or  sin  more  pleasant,  in 
the  way  of  those  by  whose  virtue  we  are  all  raised, 
in  whose  shortcomings  we  all  suffer?  At  this  moment, 
in  the  touch  of  nature  which  makes  the  whole  country 
kin,  we  are  all  one  family.  Oh,  may  God  grant  that  to 
every  member  of  that  great  family  of  the  English  race 
the  grace  may  be  given  to  seek  not  our  own,  but  others' 
good ;  not  the  passing  amusement  or  success  which  is 
for  the  moment,  but  the  eternal  happiness  which  out- 
lasts the  grave,  and  defies  the  world,  and  is  the  bulwark 
alike  of  households,  and  of  States,  and  of  Churches ! 

And  let  us  also  remember  on  this  day  wherein  con- 
sists that  other  blessing  —  the  blessing  of  enlarged  expe- 
rience. Home  itself  becomes  doubly  dear  after  long 
absence.  Our  power  of  serving  our  country  is  multi- 
plied by  the  knowledge  gained  of  every  other  country. 
That  was  a  fine  saying  of  the  old  Cavalier :  — 

I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 
Lov'd  I  not  honor  more. 

That  is  a  true  sentiment  also  which  makes  us  feel  that 
we  do  not  love  our  country  less,  but  more,  because  we 
have  laid  up  in  our  minds  the  knowledge  of  other 
lands,  and  other  institutions,  and  other  races,  and  have 
had  enkindled  afresh  within  us  the  instinct  of  a  com- 
mon humanity,  and  of  the  universal  beneficence  of  the 
Creator. 

And  if  this  be  so  in  regard  to  ordinary  experience 
of  foreign  parts,  how  much  is  the  duty  increased  when 
the  foreign  parts  are  our  own  dependencies,  and  when 
the  contrast  exhibited  is  the  greatest  contrast  which 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES.  133 

this  earth  affords  —  the  contrast  between  East  and 
"West,  between  Heathenism  and  Christianity,  between 
the  civilization  of  the  ancient  world  of  bygone  ages  and 
the  civilization  of  modern  Europe !  If,  as  we  know 
from  the  long  growth  of  history,  the  English  rule 
includes  not  merely  a  Kingdom  shut  up  between  the 
four  seas,  but  an  Empire  on  which  the  sun  never  sets 
—  if  "the  Imperial  Parliament"  rejoices  in  that  time- 
honored  name  which  it  bears  by  virtue  of  its  far-reach- 
ing sway  —  if  there  be  any  truth  in  the  saying  of  an 
illustrious  foreign  statesman,  "  that  the  conquest  and 
government  of  India  are  the  achievements  which  give 
England  its  place  in  the  opinion  of  the  world"  —  then 
any  event  which  brings  these  distant  regions  before  us 
ought  to  remind  us  that  the  morality,  the  justice,  the 
humanity  of  our  country  affect  the  welfare,  not  only 
of  the  inhabitants  of  these  little  islands,  but  of  those 
vast  dominions  where  active  Parsee,  and  subtle  Hin- 
doo, and  haughty  Mussulman,  as  well  as  the  settlers 
of  the  English  race,  or  the  savage  on  many  a  lonely 
shore  or  immeasurable  continent,  look  up  to  us  for 
guidance,  direction,  and  example.  Do  not  think  that 
this  breadth  of  view  and  depth  of  experience  diminish 
for  one  instant  the  importance  of  our  insular  and 
domestic  sphere.  In  a  famous  discourse  which  was 
intended  to  show  how  true  religion  is  best  carried  out 
in  the  business  of  common  life,  the  preacher  —  himself 
one  of  the  greatest  orators  of  our  age  —  illustrated  the 
possibility  of  combining  the  grandest  thoughts  with 
the  homeliest  duties  from  the  fact  of  the  latent  but 
powerful  influence  exercised  over  a  public  speaker  by 
the  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  his  auditory.  "  No 
exertion  requires  a  greater  concentration  of  thought  or 
attention  than  this  of  speech.  And  yet  amidst  the 
subtle  processes  of  intellect  —  the  selection  and  right 


134       THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

ordering  and  enunciation  of  words  —  there  never  quits 
the  speaker's  mind  for  one  moment  the  idea  of  the 
presence  of  the  listening  throng.  Like  a  secret  atmos- 
phere, it  surrounds  and  bathes  his  spirit  as  he  goes  on 
with  the  external  work." 

This  illustration  in  that  discourse  was  carried  on  to 
the  thought  of  "  the  One  Auditor,  the  Awful  Listener, 
ever  present,  ever  watchful,  as  the  discourse  of  life 
proceeds."  But  what  is  there  said  of  the  effect  of  a 
listening  audience  on  one  who  speaks  is  still  more  true 
of  the  effect  of  vast  multitudes  of  distant  spectators 
on  one  who  acts.  It  is  not  for  nothing  that  to  many 
of  us  there  have  been  of  late  called  up  the  visions  of 
the  "numbers  numberless"  of  the  swarming  popula- 
tions of  our  Indian  cities ;  or  that  we  have  tracked  in 
presence  or  in  thought  the  scenes  of  the  splendid,  if  at 
times  harsh  and  violent,  deeds  by  which  India  was 
won,  or  of  the  heroic  courage  and  endurance  by  which 
in  the  time  of  the  Mutiny  it  was  preserved  to  us.  It  is 
not  for  nothing  that  we  have  seen  or  heard  of  the  mon- 
strosities of  idolatrous  worship,  or  the  debasement  of 
unchecked  superstition ;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  of  the 
marvels  of  the  sacred  river,  or  the  snow-clad  tops 
of  the  highest  of  earthly  heights,  or  the  luxuriance  of 
the  loveliest  of  tropical  forests,  or  the  grandeur  of  mon- 
uments which  Christendom  has  never  surpassed  and 
rarely  equalled.  All  these  things  have  been  unrolled 
before  us  for  our  own  good  and  for  the  good  of  others. 
Those  countless  multitudes,  those  fairy  cities,  all  hence- 
forth become  the  close  spectators  of  our  actions,  the 
near  recipients  of  our  beneficence.  Every  crying  need 
for  spiritual  help,  every  just  complaint,  every  high 
aspiration,  from  those  distant  shores  ought  henceforth 
to  find  a  more  ready  access  to  our  hearts.  Every  act 
of  grace  or  courtesy  which  we  have  shown  or  can  show 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES.  135 

towards  those  subject-races  —  every  firmer  grasp  on  the 
eternal  principles  of  justice  and  purity  that  we  can 
exhibit  in  our  relations  with  them,  will  henceforth 
strike  with  double  force  on  those  who  have  been  drawn 
towards  us  by  the  bonds  of  personal  regard  and  per- 
sonal knowledge.  Every  deed  of  good  or  ill  that  we 
perform  is  henceforth  enacted,  not  only  in  "  the  fierce 
light  that  beats  upon  a  throne,"  but  in  the  presence 
of  the  gazing  eyes  and  listening  ears  of  peoples,  and 
kindreds,  and  nations.  "  Wherefore,  seeing  we  also 
are  compassed  about  with  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses, 
let  us  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth 
so  easily  beset  us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race 
that  is  set  before  us." 

"  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me,  We  will  go 
into  the  house  of  the  Lord."  Once  before  I  have 
preached  within  these  walls  on  this  text.  It  was  when 
the  whole  of  this  vast  city  and  nation  was  stirred  as 
one  man  to  go  up  to  the  great  Metropolitan  Cathedral 
to  return  thanks  for  the  recovery  of  their  beloved 
Prince  from  the  terrible  struggle  of  life  and  death 
which  for  weeks  the  people  had  followed  with  thrilling 
eagerness  and  anxiety. 

That  was  five  years  ago.  In  those  five  years  much 
has  passed  —  opportunities,  mercies,  visitations. 

And  now  has  come  another  moment,  less  exciting, 
less  tragical,  than  that  solemn  festival.  Yet  it  reminds 
us  of  that  other  time.  Here,  also,  is  an  escape  from 
perils,  if  unseen,  yet  hardly  less  imminent.  Here,  also, 
there  is  a  thanksgiving  in  which,  from  the  Queen  down- 
wards, we  all  share.  Here,  again,  we  are  assembled  in 
a  venerable  church,  if  less  august  than  the  great  Cathe- 
dral of  St.  Paul's,  yet  to  many  of  us  even  more  closely 
endeared.    On  that  occasion  I  asked  you  to  commem- 


136       THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES. 

orate  the  general  Thanksgiving  by  contributing  to  the 
restoration  of  that  metropolitan  edifice.  On  this  occa- 
sion it  happens  that  the  time  falls  in  with  the  contribu- 
tions to  the  yet  more  constant  and  pressing  need  of 
strengthening  the  hands  of  the  chief  pastor  of  this 
metropolis  in  his  efforts  for  the  good  of  its  poor  and 
neglected  masses,  and  no  thank-offering  can  be  con- 
ceived more  fitting,  as  far  as  material  aid  and  support 
can  express  the  inward  feelings  of  the  heart.  But,  on 
a  day  like  this,  those  inward  feelings  rise  higher  still 
and  reach  yet  deeper  down.  The  gladness  of  home 
regained,  the  vicissitudes  of  joy  and  sorrow  that  have 
crossed  the  path  of  many  in  the  interval  since  the 
Royal  traveller  left  our  shores,  the  sense  of  the  moral 
debt  which  England  owes  to  India,  and  which  India 
owes  to  England,  the  prospect  of  duties,  and  difficul- 
ties, and  anxieties,  ever  multiplying  and  ever  needing 
all  the  vigilance  of  man,  and  all  the  grace  of  God  to 
direct  aright,  the  voices  of  the  living  and  the  voices  of 
the  dead  —  all  combine  to  make  us  feel  that,  for  mer- 
cies such  as  these,  genuine  thankfulness  in  a  Christian 
man  or  a  Christian  nation  has  but  one  adequate  expres- 
sion, and  that  is  a  desire  for  increase  of  goodness, 
increase  of  wisdom,  increase  of  firmness,  increased  con- 
tempt of  what  is  vile,  and  selfish,  and  base,  increased 
determination  to  fight  manfully  in  the  faith  of  Christ 
crucified,  and  under  His  victorious  banner,  against  sin, 
the  world,  and  the  devil. 

Let  us  join  once  more,  and  for  the  last  time,  in  the 
words  of  that  Prayer  which  for  five  long  months  was 
offered  every  Sunday  in  this  place  —  that  the  journey 
of  the  Heir  of  these  realms  now,  by  the  good  Provi- 
dence of  God,  safely  accomplished,  may  tend  to  his  own 
best  happiness  and  the  happiness  of  those  nearest  and 
dearest  to  him,  to  the  welfare,  physical,  moral,  and 


THE  RETURN  OF  THE  PRINCE  OF  WALES.  137 

spiritual,  of  the  Indian  Empire  and  of  this  our  own 
Regal  Commonwealth,  to  the  glory  of  Almighty  God, 
the  Holy,  the  Just,  the  Merciful,  and  the  Pure. 

May  the  Eternal,  who  has  thus  blessed  his  going  out, 
bless  yet  more  abundantly  his  coming  in,  from  this  time 
forth  for  evermore ! 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


October  29, 1865,  being  the  Sunday  after  Lord  Palmerston's  burial  in  the 

Abbey. 

See  that  ye  walk  circumspectly  .  .  .  redeeming  the  time  .  .  .  under- 
standing what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is.  — Ephesians  v.  15,  16,  17. 

So  spoke  the  Apostle  in  the  epistle  of  this  day.  He 
tells  his  readers  to  "walk  circumspectly" — that  is, 
with  a  keen,  critical  observance  of  all  they  see ;  to  "  re- 
deem the  time  " —  that  is,  to  make  the  most  of  every 
opportunity  that  is  thrown  in  their  way,  not  to  let  any 
part  of  it  escape  them  ;  to  make  every  effort  of  mind 
and  heart  to  "  understand  what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is  " 
—  that  is,  to  understand  what  is  the  special  intention  of 
God,  wrapped  up  in  the  different  dispensations  of  joy 
and  sorrow  which  come  across  them.  It  is  this  very 
thing  which  we  are  called  upon  to  do  this  day  —  to  look 
hard  into  the  essential  lessons  of  the  great  solemnity  at 
which,  on  Friday  last,  so  many  of  us  assisted ;  to  re- 
deem, and  make  the  most  of,  for  our  instruction,  the 
opportunity  of  serious  thought,  thus  afforded  to  us ;  to 
understand,  so  far  as  we  can,  what  is  the  will  of  the 
Lord  concerning  us,  in  the  national  homage  then  paid 
to  the  illustrious  dead. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  instructive  parts  of  solemnities 
of  this  kind,  that  each  has  its  own  peculiar  lesson  to 
convey.  Of  all  the  great  men  who  are  laid  within  these 
walls,  every  single  one,  probably,  is  laid  there  for  a  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  reason,  which  could  not  apply  to  any 

138 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


139 


one  else.  That  grand  truth  which  was  read  in  our  ears 
in  the  funeral  lesson,  from  the  apostolic  epistle,  has  its 
special  force  on  every  such  occasion  here  —  "  There  is 
one  glory  of  the  sun,  and  another  glory  of  the  moon, 
and  another  glory  of  the  stars  ;  for  one  star  differeth 
from  another  star  in  glory." 

In  the  chambers  of  the  dead,  in  the  temple  of  fame, 
no  less  than  in  the  house  of  our  heavenly  Father,  there 
are  indeed  "  many  mansions,"  many  stages,  many  de- 
grees. Each  human  soul  that  is  gifted  above  its  fel- 
lows, leaves,  as  it  passes  out  of  the  world,  a  light  of  its 
own,  that  no  other  soul,  whether  more  or  less  greatly 
gifted,  could  give  equally.  As  each  lofty  peak  in  some 
mountain  country  is  illuminated  with  a  different  hue 
of  its  own,  by  the  setting  sun,  so,  also,  each  of  the 
higher  summits  of  human  society  is  lit  up  by  the  sun- 
•  set  of  life  with  a  different  color,  derived,  it  may  be, 
from  the  materials  of  which  it  is  composed,  or  from 
the  relative  position  which  it  occupies,  but  each,  to 
those  who  can  discern  it  rightly,  conveying  a  new  and  • 
separate  lesson  of  truth,  of  duty,  of  wisdom,  and  of 
hope. 

What,  then,  are  the  special  lessons  which  we  may 
learn  from  the  character  of  the  remarkable  man  who 
has  been  taken  away,  and  from  the  tribute  paid  to  his 
memory  ?  I  leave  altogether  the  questions  of  political 
and  religious  parties,  which  have  no  place  here,  and 
confine  myself  entirely  to  those  direct,  practical  lessons 
which  may  be  applied  to  all,  of  whatever  opinions, 
equally.  I  leave,  also,  altogether,  those  questions  of 
the  unseen  world  which  are  known  to  God  only.  I 
leave  them,  as  our  Church  leaves  them,  to  that  holy 
and  merciful  Saviour,  whose  mighty  working  is  able 
to  subdue  all  things  to  Himself,  who  sees  as  man  sees 
not,  but  who,  we  cannot  doubt,  commends  to  our  admi- 


140 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


ration  whatsoever  there  is  good  and  true  in  every  one 
of  His  servants,  that  from  each  we  may  understand  the 
more  fully  what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is,  what  the  whole 
counsel  of  God  is  towards  us. 

First,  then,  there  was  this  singular  peculiarity,  That 
the  gifts  by  which  the  eminence  of  the  departed  states- 
man was  achieved  were  such  as  are  far  more  within 
the  reach  of  all  of  us  than  is  usually  the  case  with  those 
who  occupy  a  position  like  his.  It  has  been  said  of 
Judas  Maccabseus,  that  of  all  military  chiefs,  he  was 
the  one  who  accomplished  the  greatest  victories  with 
the  smallest  amount  of  external  resources.  It  may  be 
said  of  our  late  chief,  that  of  all  political  leaders,  he 
accomplished  the  greatest  success  by  the  most  homely 
and  the  most  ordinary  means.  It  is  this  which  makes 
his  life,  in  many  respects,  an  example  and  an  encour- 
agement to  all.  The  persevering  devotion  of  his  days 
and  nights  to  the  public  service,  the  toil  and  endurance 
of  more  than  half  a  century  in  the  various  high  stations 
in  which  he  was  employed,  —  these  are  qualities  which 
might  be  imitated  by  every  single  person,  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest  amongst  you.  You,  whoever  you 
may  be,  who  are  disposed,  as  so  many  young  men  are, 
to  give  yourselves  up  to  ease  and  self-indulgence,  who 
think  every  thing  that  costs  you  any  trouble  a  reason 
for  putting  work  aside,  remember  that  not  by  such 
faint-hearted,  idle  carelessness  can  God  or  man  be 
served,  or  the  end  of  any  human  soul  be  attained,  in 
this  life  or  the  next.  You,  whoever  you  be,  who  are 
working  on  zealously,  humbly,  honestly,  in  your  differ- 
ent stations,  work  on  the  more  zealously  and  the  more 
faithfully,  from  this  day  forward,  with  the  feeling 
that,  in  the  honors  paid  to  one  who  was,  in  these 
respects,  but  a  fellow-laborer  with  you,  the  nation,  as 
in  the  sight  of  God,  has  set  its  seal  on  the  value  of 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


141 


work,  on  the  nobleness  of  toil,  on  the  grandeur  of  long, 
laborious  days,  on  the  splendor  of  plodding,  persever- 
ing diligence. 

Again,  he  won  his  way,  as  we  have  been  told  a  hun- 
dred times,  not  so  much  by  eloquence,  or  genius,  or 
far-sighted  wisdom,  as  by  the  lesser  graces  of  cheerful- 
ness, good  humor,  gayety  and  kindness  of  heart,  tact, 
and  readiness  —  lesser  graces,  doubtless,  graces  of  which 
some  of  the  highest  characters  have  been  almost  desti- 
tute, yet  graces  which  are  assuredly  not  less  the  gifts 
of  God  —  graces  which,  even  in  the  House  of  God,  we 
do  well  to  reverence  and  admire.  Those  who  may 
think  it  a  matter  of  little  moment  to  take  offence  at 
the  slightest  affront ;  those  who  by  their  presence  throw 
a  dark  chill  over  whatever  society  they  take  part  in ; 
those  who  make  the  lives  of  those  around  them  mis>- 
erable,  by  recklessly  trampling  on  their  tenderest  feel- 
ings, and  wounding  them  in  their  weakest  points  ;  those 
who  poison  discussion  and  embitter  controversy  by  push- 
ing particular  views  to  their  extremest  consequences, 
by  widening  differences  between  man  and  man ;  those 
who  think  it  a  duty  to  make  the  worst  of  every  one 
from  whom  they  dissent,  and  to  maintain  a  never- 
ending  protest  against  those  who  have  ever  done  them 
a  wrong,  or  from  whom  they  have  ever  differed,  —  such 
as  these  may  have  higher  pretensions  and,  it  may  be, 
higher  claims  on  our  respect ;  yet  if  they  would  under- 
stand what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is,  a  silent  rebuke  will 
rise  to  them  from  yonder  grave,  such  as  God  designs 
for  their  especial  benefit.  The  statesman  who  had 
always  a  soft  word  ready  to  turn  away  wrath ;  who, 
if  at  times  he  attacked  or  was  attacked  justly,  yet 
never  bore  lasting  malice  towards  his  enemies ;  who 
was  able  to  see,  even  in  those  who  opposed  him,  the 
true  worth  and  value  of  their  essential  characters, — 


142 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


from  him,  and  from  the  honor  paid  to  him,  many  an 
eager  partisan,  many  a  hard  polemic,  many  an  austere 
moralist,  may  learn  a  lesson  that  nothing  else  could 
teach  them.  How  many,  by  praising  him,  have  con- 
demned themselves !  How  many,  by  making  much  of 
him,  have  made  much  of  the  very  graces  which,  in  all 
other  times  and  persons,  they  have  been  unwilling  even 
to  acknowledge ! 

Yet  again,  the  long  life  which  has  just  closed  was  an 
enduring  witness  to  the  greatness  of  that  gift  which 
even  heathens  recognized,  of  hope,  unfailing,  elastic 
hope.  "  Never  despair  !  "  so  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
octogenarian  chief  seemed  to  say  to  us.  From  a  youth 
of  comparative  obscurity,  from  a  middle-age  of  constant 
struggle  with  opposition,  through  a  shifting  career  of 
many  changes  and  many  falls,  was  attained  at  last  that 
serene  and  bright  old  age,. that  calm  and  honored  death, 
which,  in  its  measure,  is  within  the  reach  of  all  of  us,  if 
God  should  so  prolong  our  years,  and  if  we  should  not 
despair  of  ourselves.  Never  be  dispirited  ;  never  say, 
"It  is  too  late;"  never  think  that  your  day  is  past; 
never  lose  heart  under  opposition  ;  hold  on  to  the  end, 
and  you  may  at  last  be  victorious  and  successful,  even 
as  he  was  —  it  may  be  in  still  nobler  causes,  and  with 
still  more  lasting  results.  Nor  let  us  shut  out  the  en- 
couragement which  this  is  designed  to  give  us,  by  say- 
ing that  it  was,  after  all,  only  the  natural  result  of  a 
buoyant  and  vigorous  constitution.  To  a  great  degree, 
no  doubt,  it  was  so ;  yet  it  also  rested  in  large  measure 
on  the  deeper  ground  of  a  quiet  conviction  that  the  fit- 
ting course  for  a  man  was  to  do  what  is  good  for  the 
moment,  without  vainly  forecasting  the  future  —  to  do 
the  present  duty,  and  to  leave  the  results  to  God.  "  I 
do  not  understand,"  so  he  once  said  to  one  who  knew 
him  well,  —  "I  do  not  understand  what  is  meant  by 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


143 


the  anxiety  of  responsibility.  I  take  every  pains  to  do 
what  is  for  the  best,  and  having  done  that,  I  am  per- 
fectly at  ease,  and  leave  the  consequences  altogether 
alone."  That  strain,  indeed,  is  of  a  higher  mood :  it 
is  the  strain  of  the  inspired  wisdom  of  ancient  days  — 
"  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy 
might."  It  is  the  strain,  also,  may  we  not  say,  of  true 
Christian  "humility  and  courage,  which  may  well  calm 
many  a  care,  and  nourish  many  a  hope,  and  strengthen 
many  a  faith,  beside,  and  beyond,  and  above  the  care, 
and  the  hope,  and  the  faith  of  a  mere  political  career. 

And  this  leads  me  to  another  and  a  wider  view  of 
the  subject,  in  which,  nevertheless,  all,  even  the  hum- 
blest of  us,  may  take  an  interest.  If  any  were  asked 
what  was  the  thought  or  belief  which,  from  first  to  last, 
most  distinctly  guided  his  policy  and  sustained  his 
spirit,  they  would  say  his  unfailing  trust  in,  and  con- 
cern for,  the  greatness  of  England.  He  was  an  Eng- 
lishman even  to  excess.  It  was  England,  rather  than 
any  special  party  in  England  —  it  was  the  honor  and 
interests  of  England,  rather  than  even  the  Constitution, 
or  the  State,  or  the  Church  of  England,  that  fired  his 
imagination,  and  stimulated  his  efforts,  -and  secured 
his  fame.  For  this  it  was  that  his  name  was  known 
throughout  the  world,  in  the  most  secluded  villages  of 
Calabria,  on  the  wild  shores  of  the  Caspian,  in  the  mon- 
astic solitudes  of  Thibet.  To  England,  and  to  no  les- 
ser interest,  the  vast  length  of  that  laborious  life, 
with  whatsoever  shortcomings,  was  in  all  simplicity  and 
faithfulness  devoted.  My  brethren,  I  know  well  that 
when  I  thus  speak  there  are  considerations  far  greater 
than  these  by  which  the  human  soul  must  be  stayed 
in  life  and  death,  by  which  the  world  and  Church  are 
guided  on  their  appointed  course ;  but  on  this  occasion 
this  is  the  thought  which  presses  most  forcibly  upon 


144 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


us ;  this  is  the  framework  in  which  those  higher  consid- 
erations present  themselves ;  this  is  the  special  oppor- 
tunity which  we  are  to  redeem,  and  out  of  which  the 
will  of  the  Lord  will  make  itself  clear.  In  this  great 
historic  building,  on  the  disappearance  from  amongst 
us  of  one  of  our  chief  historic  names  in  the  sight  of  all 
that  was  highest  and  noblest  in  our  national  life  gath- 
ered round  that  open  vault,  it  is  the  very  mission  of  the 
preacher  to  ask  you  to  reflect  on  what  should  be  our 
Christian  duty  towards  that  kingly  commonwealth  of 
which  we,  no  less  than  he,  are  members  —  of  which  we, 
no  less  than  he,  are  proud  —  for  which  we,  no  less  than 
he,  are  bound  in  the  sight  of  God  to  lay  down  our  lives 
and  to  spend  our  latest  breath. 

England,  we  love  thee  better  than  we  know  I 

It  was  surely  an  allowable  feeling  which  caused  one 
whose  voice  has  often  been  heard  from  this  place  thus 
to  describe  the  thrill  of  joy  and  exultation  with  which, 
in  a  foreign  land,  he  — 

.  .  .  heard  again  thy  martial  music  blow, 
And  saw  thy  gallant  children  to  and  fro 
Pace,  keeping  ward  at  one  of  those  huge  gates 
Which,  like  twin  giants,  watch  the  Herculean  straits.1 

Some  such  feeling  of  pride  as  this  it  was  which  was 
roused  by  the  awe  awakened  in  many  a  distant  and 
many  a  suffering  nation  at  the  sound  of  the  powerful 
name  now  to  be  inscribed  within  these  walls. 

But  it  is  with  loftier  thoughts  than  pride  or  even 
thankfulness  that  our  spirits  mount  upwards  when  Ave 
reflect  on  what  is  really  involved  in  that  idea  which 
so  inspired  the  long  career  which  has  just  closed  — 
England,  and  a  citizen  of  England.  Think  of  our 
marvellous  history,  slowly  evolved  out  of  our  marvel- 

1  Gibraltar:  sonnet,  by  R.  C.  Trench,  Archbishop  of  Dublin. 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


145 


lous  situation.  Think  of  that  fusion  of  hostile  races 
and  hostile  institutions  within  the  same  narrow  limits. 
Think  of  the  long,  bright,  continuous  line  of  our  litera- 
ture such  as  is  unknown  in  any  other  country.  Think 
of  our  refuge  for  freedom  and  for  justice.  Think  of 
our  temperate  monarchy  and  constitution,  so  fearfully 
and  wonderfully  wrought  out  through  the  toil  and  con- 
flict of  so  many  centuries.  Think  of  our  pure  domestic 
homes.  Think  of  the  English  Prayers  and  the  English 
Bible  woven  into  our  inmost  and  earliest  recollections. 
Think  of  the  liberty  of  conscience  and  the  liberty  of 
speech  which  give  to  conscience  and  to  speech  a  double, 
treble  weight  and  value.  Think  of  the  sober  religious 
faith  which  shows  itself  amongst  us  in  so  many  diverse 
forms,  each  supplying  what  the  other  wants.  These 
are  some  of  the  elements  which  go  to  make  up  the 
whole  idea  that  is  conjured  up  by  the  sacred  name  of 
England  for  which  our  statesman  lived  and  died. 

And  then  remember  that  what  England  is,  or  will 
be,  depends  in  great  measure  on  her  own  individual 
sons  and  daughters.  Nations  are  the  schools  in  which 
individual  souls  are  trained.  The  virtues  and  the  sins 
of  a  nation  are  the  virtues  and  the  sins  of  each  one  of 
its  citizens,  on  a  larger  scale  and  written  in  gigantic 
letters.  To  be  a  citizen  of  England,  according  to  our 
lost  chief,  was  the  greatest  boast,  the  greatest  claim  on 
protection  and  influence,  that  a  man  could  show  in  any 
part  of  the  world.  To  be  a  citizen  of  England  in  the 
fullest  sense,  worthy  of  all  that  England  has  been  and 
might  be,  worthy  of  our  noble  birthright,  worthy  of  our 
boundless  opportunities,  this  is,  indeed,  a  thought  which 
should  rouse  every  one  of  us,  not  in  presumptuous  con- 
fidence, but  in  all  Christian  humility,  to  redeem  the 
time  that  is  still  before  us,  and  to  labor  to  understand 
what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is  for  ourselves  and  for  our 


146 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


children.  When,  two  daj-s  ago,  we  stood  amidst  the 
deepening  gloom  round  the  grave  of  the  aged  states- 
man, it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  that  we  were  witness- 
ing not  only  the  flight  of  an  individual  spirit  into  the 
unseen  world,  but  the  close  of  one  generation,  one  stage 
of  our  history,  and  the  beginning  of  another.  We  had 
climbed  to  the  height  of  one  of  those  ridges  which  part 
the  past  from  the  future.  We  were  on  the  water-shed 
of  the  dividing  streams.  We  saw  the  last  thread  of  the 
waters  which  belonged  to  the  earlier  epoch  amongst  the 
remains  of  which  the  ashes  of  the  dead  were  laid ;  we 
were  on  the  turning-point  whence,  henceforward,  the 
springs  of  political  and  national  life  will  flow  in  another 
direction,  taking  their  rise  from  another  range,  destined 
to  commingle  with  other  seas,  and  to  fertilize  other 
climes.  Even  the  oldest  of  living  statesmen,  compared 
with  him  who  has  gone,  belongs  to  a  newer  age,  and 
has  to  face  a  newer  world.  On  this  eminence,  so  to 
speak,  we  stand  to-day.  To  this  new  start  in  our  pil- 
grimage we  have  each  one  of  us  to  look  forward.  It  is 
not  in  England  as  in  other  countries,  where  the  national 
will  is  but  little  felt  compared  with  the  will  of  a  single 
ruler.  Here,  for  good  or  for  evil,  the  mind,  the  wishes, 
the  character  of  the  people  are  almost  every  thing.  That 
public  opinion,  of  which  we  hear  so  much,  which  was 
believed  to  be  the  guiding  star  of  the  sagacious  mind 
which  has  just  gone  from  us  —  that  public  opinion  is 
moulded  by  every  one  who  has  a  will,  or  heart,  or  head, 
or  conscience  of  his  own,  throughout  this  vast  empire. 
On  you,  on  me,  on  old  and  young,  on  rich  and  poor,  it 
more  or  less  depends,  whether  that  public  opinion  be 
elevating  or  depressing,  just  or  unjust,  pure  or  impure, 
Christian  or  un-Christian.  If  it  be  true,  as  some  think, 
that  to  follow  and  not  to  lead  public  opinion  must 
henceforth  be  the  course  of  our  statesmen,  then  our 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


147 


responsibility  and  the  responsibility  of  the  nation  is 
deepened  further  still.  The  very  creation  of  the  char- 
acter of  our  public  men  must  then  devolve  in  a  manner 
upon  those  below  them  and  around  them.  They  may 
inspire  us,  but  we  must  also  inspire  them.  We  must 
strive  with  all  our  strength  to  be  that  in  our  stations 
which  we  would  wish  them  to  be  in  theirs.  We  must 
act  as  those  act  in  a  beleaguered  city,  where  every  sen- 
tinel knows  that  on  his  single  courage  and  fidelity  may 
depend  the  fate  of  all.  A  single  resolute  mind,  loving 
the  truth,  and  the  truth  only,  has  ere  now  brought  the 
whole  mind  of  a  nation  round  to  himself.  A  single 
pure  spirit  has,  by  its  own  pure  and  holy  aspirations, 
breathed  a  new  spirit  into  the  corrupt  mass  of  a  whole 
national  literature.  A  single  voice  raised  constantly 
in  behalf  of  honesty,  and  justice,  and  mercy,  and  free- 
dom, has  rendered  forever  impossible  practices  which 
were  once  universal. 

"  Brethren,"  —  so  says  the  Apostle  in  the  chapter 
which  you  have  just  heard  in  this  evening's  service  — 
"  Brethren,  forgetting  those  things  which  are  behind, 
and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before, 
I  press  toward  the  mark,  for  the  prize  of  the  high  call- 
ing of  God  in  Christ  Jesus."  So  let  me  call  upon  you, 
in  the  presence  of  that  grave  which  has  been  so  lately 
closed ;  in  the  prospect  of  the  changes  and  trials,  what- 
soever they  may  be,  which  are  now  before  us ;  in  the 
midst  of  those  mighty  memories  by  which  we  are  sur- 
rounded ;  in  the  face  of  that  mighty  future  to  which  we 
are  all  advancing,  forget  those  things  which  are  behind. 
Forget  in  him  who  is  gone  all  that  was  of  the  earth  and 
earthy ;  reach  forward  in  his  character  to  all  that  is  im- 
mortal —  the  kindness,  the  perseverance,  the  freedom 
from  party  spirit,  the  hope,  the  self-devotion,  which  can 
never  pass  away,  and  which  are  still  before  each  one 


148 


LORD  PALMERSTON. 


of  us.  Forget,  too,  in  the  past  and  the  present  genera- 
tion all  that  is  behind,  all  that  is  behind  the  best  spirit 
of  our  age,  all  that  is  behind  the  true  spirit  of  the  Gos- 
pel, all  that  is  behind  the  requirements  of  the  most  en- 
lightened and  the  most  Christian  conscience  ;  and  reach 
forward,  one  and  all,  towards  those  great  things  which 
we  may  trust  are  still  before  us  —  the  great  problems 
which  our  age,  if  any,  may  solve,  the  great  tasks  which 
our  nation  alone  can  accomplish,  the  great  doctrines  of 
our  common  faith,  which  we  may  have  the  opportunity 
of  grasping  with  a  firmer  hold  than  ever  before,  the  great 
reconciliation  of  things  old  with  things  new,  of  things 
common  with  things  sacred,  of  class  with  class,  of  man 
with  man,  of  nation  with  nation,  of  church  with  church, 
of  all  with  God.  This  is  the  high  calling  of  England, 
this  is  the  high  calling  of  an  English  statesman,  this  is 
the  high  calling  of  every  English  citizen,  this  is  the  high 
calling  of  the  nineteenth  century,  this  is  the  will  of  the 
Lord  concerning  us ;  this,  and  nothing  less  than  this, 
is  "  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus 
our  Lord." 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


June  19, 1870. 
He  spake  this  Parable.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  certain  rich  man,  which  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine 
linen,  and  fared  sumptuously  everyday:  and  there  was  a  certain  beggar 
named  Lazarus,  which  was  laid  at  his  gate,  full  of  sores,  and  desiring 
to  be  fed  with  the  crumbs  which  fell  from  the  rich  man's  table:  moreover 
the  dogs  came  and  licked  his  sores.  —  St.  Luke  xv.  3  ;  xvi.  19-21. 

There  are  some  passages  of  Scripture  which,  when 
they  are  read  in  the  services  of  the  Sunday,  almost  de- 
mand a  special  notice  from  their  extraordinary  force 
and  impressiveness.  Such  is  the  Parable  of  the  Rich 
Man  and  Lazarus,  read  as  the  Gospel  of  this  day. 
There  are  some  incidents  of  human  life  which  almost 
demand  a  special  notice  from  the  depth  and  breadth 
of  the  feelings  which  they  awaken  in  the  heart  of  the 
congregation.  Such  was  the  ceremony  which,  on  Tues- 
day last,  conveyed  to  his  grave,  within  these  walls,  a 
lamented  and  gifted  being,  who  had  for  years  delighted 
and  instructed  the  generation  to  which  he  belonged. 
And  if  the  Scripture  of  the  day  and  the  incident  of  the 
week  direct  our  minds  to  the  same  thoughts,  and  mutu- 
ally illustrate  each  other,  the  attraction  is  irresistible, 
and  the  moral  which  each  supplies  is  doubly  enforced. 

Let  me  then  draw  out  these  lessons  in  what  I  now 
propose  to  say. 

1.  I  will  speak  first  of  the  form  of  instruction  which 
we  are  called  upon  to  notice  in  the  Gospel  of  this  Sun- 

149 


150 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


day.  It  is  not  only,  like  most  of  our  Lord's  instruc- 
tions, a  Parable,  but  it  is,  as  it  were,  a  Parable  of  the 
Parables.  It  is  the  last  of  a  group  which  occurs  in  the 
15th  and  16th  chapters  of  St.  Luke,  where  the  story  is 
taken  in  each  case,  not  as  in  the  other  Gospels,  from 
inanimate  or  irrational  creatures,  but  from  the  doings 
and  characters  of  men.  First  comes  the  story  of  the 
Good  Shepherd,  with  all  its  depth  of  tenderness ;  then 
the  story  of  the  Indefatigable  Searcher,  with  all  its 
depth  of  earnestness ;  then  the  story  of  the  Prodigal 
Son,  with  all  its  depth  of  pathos ;  then  the  story  of  the 
Unjust  Steward,  with  all  its  depth  of  satire ;  and,  last 
of  all,  comes  the  story  of  the  Rich  Man  and  the  Poor 
Man,  drawn  not  merely  from  the  mountain  side,  or  the 
dark  chamber,  or  the  tranquil  home,  or  the  accountant's 
closet,  but  from  the  varied  stir  of  human  enjoyment 
and  human  suffering  in  the  streets  and  alleys  of  Jeru- 
salem. It  is  a  tale  of  real  life  —  so  real  that  we  can 
hardly  believe  that  it  is  not  history.  Yet  it  is,  never- 
theless, a  tale  of  pure  fiction  from  first  to  last.  Dives 
and  Lazarus  are  as  much  imaginary  beings  as  Hamlet 
or  as  Shylock  ;  the  scene  of  Abraham's  bosom  and  of  the 
rich  man  in  Hades  is  drawn  not  from  any  literal  out- 
ward truth,  or  ancient  sacred  record,  but  from  the 
popular  Jewish  conceptions  current  at  the  time.  This 
Parable  is,  in  short,  the  most  direct  example  which  the 
Bible  contains  of  the  use,  of  the  value,  of  the  sacred- 
ness,  of  fictitious  narrative.  There  are  doubtless  many 
other  instances  in  the  Sacred  Records.  There  is  the 
exquisite  Parable  of  the  Talking  Trees  in  the  Book 
of  Judges ;  there  is  the  sublime  drama  of  the  Patriarch 
and  his  Friends  in  the  Book  of  Job ;  there  is  the  touch- 
ing and  graceful  picture  of  Jewish  family  life  in  the 
Book  of  Tobit,  from  which  our  Church  selects  some  of 
its  most  striking  precepts,  and  which,  in  its  Homilies,  is 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


151 


treated  as  if  inspired  directly  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  All 
these  are  instances  where  moral  lessons  are  conveyed  by 
the  invention  of  characters  which  either  never  existed 
at  all,  or,  if  they  existed,  are  made  to  converse  in  forms 
of  speech  entirely  drawn  from  the  inspired  imagination 
of  the  sacred  writer.  But  the  highest  sanction  to  this 
mode  of  instruction  is  that  given  us  in  this  Parable  by 
our  Lord  Himself.  This,  we  are  told,  was  His  ordinary 
mode  of  teaching;  He  stamped  it  with  His  peculiar 
mark.  "  Without  a  parable,"  1  without  a  fable,  without 
an  invented  story  of  this  kind,  He  rarely  opened  His 
lips.  He,  the  Example  of  examples,  the  Teacher  of 
teachers,  "  taught  His  disciples 2  many  things  by  para- 
bles." Through  this  parabolic  form  some  of  His  gravest 
instructions  have  received  a  double  life.  If  we  were  to 
ask  for  the  most  perfect  exposition  of  the  most  perfect 
truth  respecting  God  and  man,  which  the  world  contains, 
it  will  be  found  not  in  a  Discourse,  or  a  Creed,  or  a 
Hymn,  or  even  a  Prayer,  but  in  a  Parable,  a  story  — 
one  of  those  which  I  have  already  cited  —  the  Parable 
of  the  Prodigal  Son. 

I  have  dwelt  on  this  characteristic  of  the  Gospel 
teaching  because  it  is  well  that  we  should  see  how  the 
Bible  itself  sanctions  a  mode  of  instruction  which  has 
been,  in  a  special  sense,  God's  gift  to  our  own  age. 
Doubtless  His  "grace  is  manifold," 3 —  in  the  original 
expression,  many  colored.  In  various  ages  it  has  as- 
sumed various  forms,  the  divine  flame  of  poetry,  the 
far-reaching  gaze  of  science,  the  searching  analysis  of 
philosophy,  the  glorious  page  of  history,  the  burning 
eloquence  of  speaker  or  preacher,  the  grave  address  of 
moralist  or  divine.  These  all  we  have  had  in  ages  past ; 
their  memorials  are  around  us  here.  These  all  we 
have  in  their  measure,  some  more,  some  less,  in  the  age 

i  Matt.  xiii.  34.  2  Mark  iv.  2.  «1  Pet.  iv.  10. 


152 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


in  which  we  live.  But  it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to 
say,  that  in  no  age  of  the  world,  and  in  no  country  of 
the  world,  has  been  developed  on  so  large  a  scale,  and 
with  such  striking  effects  as  in  our  own,  the  gift  of 
"  speaking  in  parables,"  the  gift  of  addressing  mankind 
through  romance  and  novel  and  tale  and  fable.  First 
and  far  above  all  others  came  that  greatest  of  all  the 
masters  of  fiction,  the  glory  of  Scotland,  whose  romances 
refreshed  and  exalted  our  childhood  as  they  still  re- 
fresh and  exalt  our  advancing  years  —  as  would  to 
God  that  they  still  might  continue  to  refresh  and  exalt 
the  childhood  and  the  manhood  of  the  coming  genera- 
tion. He  rests  not  here.  He  rests  beside  his  native 
Tweed.  But  long  may  his  magic  spell  charm  and  pu- 
rify the  ages  which  yet  shall  be !  Long  may  yonder 
monument  of  the  Scottish  Duke,  whom  he  has  immor- 
talized in  one  of  his  noblest  works,  keep  him  in  our 
memory,  as,  one  by  one,  the  lesser  and  later  lights 
which  have  followed  in  that  track  where  he  led  the  way, 
are  gathered  beneath  its  overshadowing  marble  !  It  is 
because  one  of  those  bright  lights  has  now  passed  from 
amongst  us  —  one  in  whom  this  generation  seemed  to 
see  the  most  vivid  exemplification  of  this  heaven-sent 
power  of  fiction,  that  I  would  thus  speak  of  it,  for  a  few 
moments,  in  its  most  general  aspect. 

There  was  a  truth  —  let  us  freely  confess  it  —  in  the 
old  Puritan  feeling  against  an  exaggerated  enjoyment 
of  romances,  as  tending  to  relax  the  fibre  of  the  moral 
character.  That  was  a  wholesome  restraint  which  I 
remember  in  my  childhood,  which  kept  us  from  revel- 
ling in  tales  of  fancy  till  the  day's  work  was  over,  and 
thus  impressed  upon  us  that  the  reading  of  pleasant 
fictions  was  the  holiday  of  life,  and  not  its  serious 
business.  It  is  this  very  thing  which,  as  it  constitutes 
the  danger  of  fictitious  narratives,  constitutes  also  their 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


153 


power.  They  approach  us  at  times  when  we  are  indis- 
posed to  attend  to  any  thing  else.  They  fill  up  those 
odd  moments  of  life  which  exercise,  for  good  or  evil, 
so  wide  an  effect  over  the  whole  tenor  of  our  course. 
Poetry  may  enkindle  a  loftier  fire,  the  Drama  may  rivet 
ihe  attention  more  firmly,  Science  may  open  a  wider 
horizon,  Philosophy  may  touch  a  deeper  spring  —  but 
no  works  are  so  penetrating,  so  pervasive,  none  reach 
so  many  homes,  and  attract  so  many  readers,  as  the 
romance  of  modern  times.  Those  who  read  nothing 
else  read  eagerly  the  exciting  tale.  Those  whom  ser- 
mons never  reach,  whom  history  fails  to  arrest,  are 
reached  and  arrested  by  the  fictitious  characters,  the 
stirring  plot,  of  the  successful  novelist.  It  is  this  which 
makes  a  wicked  novel  more  detestable  than  almost  any 
other  form  of  wicked  words  or  deeds.  It  is  this  which 
gives  even  to  a  foolish  or  worthless  novel  a  demoraliz- 
ing force  beyond  its  own  contemptible  demerits.  It  is 
this  which  makes  a  good  novel  —  pure  in  style,  elevat- 
ing in  thought,  true  in  sentiment  —  one  of  the  best  of 
boons  to  the  Christian  home  and  to  the  Christian  State. 

Oh  vast  responsibility  of  those  who  wield  this  mighty 
engine ;  mighty  it  may  be,  and  has  been,  for  corruption, 
for  debasement,  for  defilement ;  mighty  also  it  may  be, 
mighty  it  certainly  has  been,  in  our  English  novels  (to 
the  glory  of  our  country  be  it  spoken),  mighty  for  edifica- 
tion and  for  purification,  for  giving  wholesome  thoughts, 
high  aspirations,  soul-stirring  recollections  !  Use  these 
wonderful  works  of  genius  as  not  abusing  them  ;  enjoy 
them  as  God's  special  gifts  to  us ;  only  remember  that 
the  true  Romance  of  Life  is  Life  itself. 

2.  But  this  leads  me  to  the  further  question  of  the 
special  form  which  this  power  assumed  in  him  whose 
loss  the  country  now  deplores  with  a  grief  so  deep  and 
genuine  as  to  be  itself  a  matter  for  serious  reflection. 


154 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


What  was  there  in  him  which  called  forth  this  wide- 
spread sympathy?  What  is  there  in  this  sympathy, 
and  in  that  which  created  it,  worthy  of  our  religious 
thoughts  on  this  day  ? 

I  profess  not  here  to  sit  in  judgment  on  the  whole 
character  and  career  of  this  gifted  writer.  That  must 
be  left  for  posterity  to  fix  in  its  proper  niche  amongst 
the  worthies  of  English  literature. 

Neither  is  this  the  place  to  speak  at  length  of  those 
lighter  and  more  genial  qualities  which  made  his  death, 
like  that  of  one 1  who  rests  beside  him,  almost  an  "  eclipse 
of  the  gayety  of  nations."  Let  others  tell  elsewhere  of 
the  brilliant  and  delicate  satire,  the  kindly  wit,  the  keen 
and  ubiquitous  sense  of  the  ludicrous  and  grotesque. 
u  There  is  a  time  to  laugh,  and  there  is  a  time  to  weep." 
Laughter  is  itself  a  good,  yet  there  are  moments  when 
we  care  not  to  indulge  in  it.  It  may  even  seem  here- 
after, as  it  has  seemed  to  some  of  our  own  age,  that  the 
nerves  of  the  rising  generation  were,  for  the  time  at 
least,  unduly  relaxed  by  that  inexhaustible  outburst  of 
a  humorous  temper,  of  a  never-slumbering  observation, 
in  the  long  unceasing  flood  of  drollery  and  merriment 
which,  it  may  be,  brought  out  the  comic  and  trivial  side 
of  human  life  in  too  strong  and  startling  a  relief. 

But  even  thus,  and  even  in  this  sacred  place,  it  is 
good  to  remember  that,  in  the  writings  of  him  who 
is  gone,  we  have  had  the  most  convincing  proof  that  it 
is  possible  to  have  moved  old  and  young  to  inextinguish- 
able laughter  without  the  use  of  a  single  expression 
which  could  defile  the  purest,  or  shock  the  most  sensi- 
tive. Remember  this,  if  there  be  any  who  think  that 
you  cannot  be  witty  without  being  wicked — who  think 
that  in  order  to  amuse  the  world  and  awaken  the  inter- 
est of  hearers  or  readers,  you  must  descend  to  filthy 

1  David  Garrick. 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


155 


jests,  and  unclean  suggestions,  and  debasing  scenes.  So 
may  have  thought  some  gifted  novelists  of  former  times  ; 
but  so  thought  not,  so  wrote  not  (to  speak  only  of  the 
departed)  Walter  Scott,  or  Jane  Austen,  or  Elizabeth 
Gaskell,  or  William  Thackeray :  so  thought  not,  and  so 
wrote  not,  the  genial  and  loving  humorist  whom  we 
now  mourn.  However  deep  into  the  dregs  of  society 
his  varied  imagination  led  him  in  his  writings  to  descend, 
it  still  breathed  an  untainted  atmosphere.  He  was  able 
to  show  us,  by  his  own  example,  that  even  in  dealing 
with  the  darkest  scenes  and  the  most  degraded  charac- 
ters, genius  could  be  clean,  and  mirth  could  be  innocent. 

3.  There  is  another  point,  yet  more  peculiar  and 
special,  on  which  we  may  safely  dwell,  even  in  the  very 
house  of  God,  even  beside  the  freshly  laid  grave.  In 
that  long  series  of  stirring  tales,  now  forever  closed, 
there  was  a  profoundly  serious  —  nay,  may  we  not  say, 
a  profoundly  Christian  and  Evangelical  truth,  of  which 
we  all  need  to  be  reminded,  and  of  which  he  was,  in  his 
own  way,  the  special  teacher. 

It  is  the  very  same  lesson  which  is  represented  to  us 
in  the  Parable  of  this  day.  "  There  was  a  certain  rich 
man,  which  was  clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and 
fared  sumptuously  every  day.  And  there  was  a  certain 
beggar  named  Lazarus,  which  was  laid  at  his  gate,  full 
of  sores,  and  desiring  to  be  fed  with  the  crumbs  which 
fell  from  the  rich  man's  table.  Moreover,  the  dogs 
came  and  licked  his  sores."  It  is  a  picture  whose  every 
image  is  expressive,  and  whose  every  image  awakens 
thoughts  that  live  forever.  It  is  true  that  an  Oriental 
atmosphere  hangs  around  it  —  the  Syrian  purple,  the 
fine  linen  of  Egypt,  the  open  banqueting  hall,  the  beg- 
gar in  the  gateway,  the  dogs  prowling  about  the  city. 
But  the  spirit  of  the  Parable  belongs  to  the  West  as 
well  as  to  the  East.    The  contrast,  the  inequality  of 


156 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


deserts  and  circumstances,  on  which  it  insists,  meets 
us  in  the  streets  of  London,  no  less  than  in  the  streets 
of  Jerusalem  ;  and  the  moral  which  the  Parable  intends 
that  we  should  draw  from  that  contrast  is  the  very  same 
which  in  his  own  peculiar  way  is  urged  upon  us,  with 
irresistible  force,  throughout  the  writings  of  our  lost 
preceptor.  Close  beside  the  magnificence,  the  opulence, 
the  luxury  of  this  great  metropolis,  is  that  very  neigh- 
bor, those  very  neighbors,  whom  the  Parable  describes. 
The  Rich  Man  has  no  name  in  the  Scripture ;  but  the 
Poor  Man  has  a  name  in  the  Book  of  God ;  and  he  has 
a  name  given  him,  he  has  many  names  given  him,  in  the 
tales  in  which  the  departed  has  described  the  homes  and 
manners  of  our  poorer  brethren.  "  Lazarus,"  the  "  help 
of  God "  —  the  noble  name  which  tells  us  that  God 
helps  those  who  help  themselves  —  is  the  very  prototype 
of  those  outcasts,  of  those  forlorn,  struggling,  human 
beings,  whose  characters  are  painted  by  him  in  such 
vivid  colors  that  we  shrink  from  speaking  of  them  here, 
even  as  we  should  from  speaking  of  persons  yet  alive  — 
whose  names  are  such  familiar  household  words  that, 
to  mention  them  in  a  sacred  place,  seems  almost  like  a 
desecration.  It  is  of  this  vast  outlying  mass  of  unseen 
human  suffering  that  we  need  constantly  to  be  reminded. 
It  is  this  contrast  between  things  as  they  are  in  the 
sight  of  God,  and  things  as  they  seem  in  the  sight  of 
man,  that  so  easily  escapes  us  all  in  our  busy  civiliza- 
tion. It  is  the  difficulty  of  seeing  this,  of  realizing  this, 
which  made  a  Parable  like  that  of  the  Rich  Man  and 
Lazarus  so  vital  a  necessity  for  the  world  when  it  was 
first  spoken.  But  He  who  spake  as  never  man  spake 
saw,  with  His  far-seeing  glance,  into  our  complicated 
acre  as  well  as  into  His  own.  What  was  needed  then  is 
still  more  needed  now ;  and  it  is  to  meet  this  need  that 
our  dull  and  sluggish  hearts  want  all  the  assistance 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


157 


which  can  be  given  by  lively  imagination,  by  keen  sym- 
pathy, by  the  dramatic  power  of  making  things  which 
are  not  seen  be  even  as  though  they  were  seen.  Such 
were  the  gifts  wielded  with  pre-eminent  power  by  him 
who  has  passed  away. 

It  was  the  distinguishing  glory  of  a  famous  Spanish 
saint,  that  she  was  "the  advocate  of  the  absent."  That 
is  precisely  the  advocacy  of  the  Divine  Parable  in  the 
Gospels,  the  advocacy  of  these  modern  human  Parables, 
which  in  their  humble  measure  represent  its  spirit  — 
the  advocacy  of  the  absent  poor,  of  the  neglected,  of 
the  weaker  side,  whom  not  seeing  we  are  tempted  to 
forget.  It  was  a  fine  trait  of  a  noble  character  of  our 
own  times,  that,  though  full  of  interests,  intellectual, 
domestic,  social,  the  distress  of  the  poor  of  England, 
he  used  to  say,  "pierced  through  his  happiness,  and 
haunted  him  day  and  night."  It  is  because  this  sus- 
ceptibility is  so  rare,  so  difficult  to  attain,  that  we 
ought  doubly  to  value  those  who  have  the  eye  to  see, 
and  the  ear  to  hear,  and  the  tongue  to  speak,  and  the 
pen  to  describe,  those  who  are  not  at  hand  to  demand 
their  own  rights,  to  set  forth  their  own  wrongs,  to 
portray  their  own  sufferings.  Such  was  he  who  lies 
yonder.  By  him  that  veil  was  rent  asunder  which 
parts  the  various  classes  of  society.  Through  his  gen- 
ius the  rich  man,  faring  sumptuously  every  day,  was 
made  to  see  and  feel  the  presence  of  the  Lazarus  at 
his  gate.  The  unhappy  inmates  of  the  workhouse,  the 
neglected  children  in  the  dens  and  caves  of  our  great 
cities,  the  starved  and  ill-used  boys  in  remote  schools, 
far  from  the  observation  of  men,  felt  that  a  new  ray 
of  sunshine  was  poured  on  their  dark  existence,  a  new 
interest  awakened  in  their  forlorn  and  desolate  lot. 
It  was  because  an  unknown  friend  had  pleaded  their 
cause  with  a  voice  which  rang  through  the  palaces 


158 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


of  the  great,  as  well  as  through  the  cottages  of  the 
poor.  It  was  because,  as  by  a  magician's  wand,  those 
gaunt  figures  and  strange  faces  had  been,  it  may  be 
sometimes,  in  exaggerated  forms,  made  to  stand  and 
speak  before  those  who  hardly  dreamed  of  their  ex- 
istence. 

Nor  was  it  mere  compassion  that  was  thus  evoked. 
As  the  same  Parable  which  delineates  the  miseries  of 
the  outcast  Lazarus  tells  us  also  how,  under  that  exter- 
nal degradation,  was  nursed  a  spirit  fit  for  converse 
with  the  noble-minded  and  the  gentle-hearted  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  so  the  same  master 
hand  which  drew  the  sorrows  of  the  English  poor,  drew 
also  the  picture  of  the  unselfish  kindness,  the  coura- 
geous patience,  the  tender  thoughtfulness,  that  lie  con- 
cealed behind  many  a  coarse  exterior,  in  many  a  rough 
heart,  in  many  a  degraded  home.  When  the  little 
workhouse  boy  wins  his  way,  pure  and  undefiled, 
through  the  mass  of  wickedness  in  the  midst  of  which 
he  passes  —  when  the  little  orphan  girl  brings  thoughts 
of  heaven  into  the  hearts  of  all  around  her,  and  is  as 
the  very  gift  of  God  to  the  old  man  whose  desolate  life 
she  cheers  —  when  the  little  cripple  not  only  blesses 
his  father's  needy  home,  but  softens  the  rude  stranger's 
hardened  conscience  —  there  is  a  lesson  taught  which 
touches  every  heart,  which  no  human  being  can  feel 
without  being  the  better  for  it,  which  makes  that  grave 
seem  to  those  who  crowd  around  it  as  though  it  were 
the  very  grave  of  those  little  innocents  whom  he  had 
thus  created  for  our  companionship,  for  our  instruction, 
for  our  delight  and  solace.  He  labored  to  tell  us 
all,  in  new,  very  new,  words,  the  old,  old  story,  that 
there  is,  even  in  the  worst  a  capacity  for  goodness,  a 
soul  worth  redeeming,  worth  reclaiming,  worth  regen- 
erating.   He  labored  to  tell  the  rich,  the  educated, 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


159 


how  this  better  side  was  to  be  found  and  respected  even 
in  the  most  neglected  Lazarus.  He  labored  to  tell  the 
poor  no  less  to  respect  this  better  part  in  themselves,  to 
remember  that  they  also  have  a  call  to  be  good  and 
just,  if  they  will  but  hear  it.  If  by  any  such  means 
he  has  brought  rich  and  poor  together,  and  made  Eng- 
lishmen feel  more  nearly  as  one  family,  he  will  not 
assuredly  have  lived  in  vain,  nor  will  his  bones  in  vain 
have  been  laid  in  this  home  and  hearth  of  the  English 
nation. 

4.  There  is  one  more  thought  that  this  occasion  sug- 
gests. In  the  Parable  of  the  Rich  Man  and  Lazarus, 
besides  the  pungent,  pathetic  lessons  of  social  life 
which  it  impresses  upon  us,  is  also  conveyed,  beyond 
any  other  part  of  the  Gospels,  the  awful  solemnity 
of  the  other  world.  "  If  they  hear  not  Moses  and  the 
prophets,  neither  will  they  be  persuaded  though  one 
rose  from  the  dead."  So  also  on  this  day  there  is 
impressed  upon  us  a  solemnity,  before  which  the  most 
lively  sallies  of  wit,  the  most  brilliant  splendors  of 
genius  wax  faint  and  pale,  namely,  the  solemnity  of  each 
man's  individual  responsibility,  in  each  man's  life  and 
death.  When  on  Tuesday  last  we  stood  by  that  open 
grave,  in  the  still  deep  silence  of  the  summer  morning, 
in  the  midst  of  the  vast,  solitary  space,  broken  only 
by  that  small  band  of  fourteen  mourners,  it  was  impos- 
sible not  to  feel  that  there  was  something  more  sacred, 
more  arresting  than  any  earthly  fane  however  bright, 
or  than  any  historic  mausoleum  however  august  —  and 
that  was  the  return  of  the  individual  human  soul  into 
the  hands  of  its  Maker. 

As  I  sit  not  here  in  judgment  on  the  exact  place  to 
be  allotted  in  the  roll  of  history  to  that  departing  glory, 
neither  do  I  sit  in  judgment  on  that  departing  spirit. 
But  there  are  some  farewell  thoughts  which  I  would 
fain  express. 


160 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


Many,  many  are  the  feet  which  have  trodden  and 
w  ill  tread  the  consecrated  ground  around  that  narrow 
grave ;  many,  many  are  the  hearts  which  both  in  the 
Old  and  in  the  New  World  are  drawn  towards  it,  as 
towards  the  resting-place  of  a  dear  personal  friend ; 
many  are  the  flowers  that  have  been  strewed,  many  the 
tears  shed,  by  the  grateful  affection  of  "  the  poor  that 
cried,  and  the  fatherless,  and  those  that  had  none  to 
help  them."  May  I  speak  to  these  a  few  sacred  words 
which  perhaps  will  come  with  a  new  meaning  and  a 
deeper  force  because  they  come  from  the  hps  of  a  lost 
friend,  because  they  are  the  most  solemn  utterance 
of  lips  now  forever  closed  in  the  grave?  They  are 
extracted  from  "the  will  of  Charles  Dickens,  dated 
May  12,  1869,"  and  they  will  be  heard  by  most  here 
present  for  the  first  time.  After  the  emphatic  injunc- 
tions respecting  "the  inexpensive,  unostentatious,  and 
strictly  private  manner "  of  his  funeral,  which  were 
carried  out  to  the  very  letter,  he  thus  continues :  "  I 
direct  that  my  name  be  inscribed  in  plain  English 
letters  on  my  tomb.  ...  I  conjure  my  friends  on  no 
account  to  make  me  the  subject  of  any  monument, 
memorial,  or  testimonial  whatever.  I  rest  my  claims 
to  the  remembrance  of  my  country  upon  my  published 
works,  and  to  the  remembrance  of  my  friends  upon 
their  experience  of  me  in  addition  thereto.  I  commit 
my  soul  to  the  mercy  of  God  through  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ ;  and  I  exhort  my  dear  children 
humbly  to  try  to  guide  themselves  by  the  teaching  of 
the  New  Testament  in  its  broad  spirit,  and  to  put  no 
faith  in  any  man's  narrow  construction  of  its  letter  here 
or  there." 

In  that  simple  but  sufficient  faith  he  lived  and  died  ; 
in  that  faith  he  bids  you  live  and  die.  If  any  of  you 
have  learnt  from  his  works  the  value,  the  eternal  value 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 


161 


of  generosity,  purity,  kindness,  unselfishness,  and  have 
learnt  to  show  these  in  your  own  hearts  and  lives,  these 
are  the  best  monuments,  memorials,  and  testimonials  of 
the  friend  whom  you  loved,  and  who  loved,  with  a  rare 
and  touching  love,  his  friends,  his  country,  and  his 
fellow-men :  monuments  which  he  would  not  refuse,  and 
which  the  humblest,  the  poorest,  the  youngest  have  it 
in  their  power  to  raise  to  his  memory. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


May  21,  1871,  being  the  Sunday  following  the  funeral  of  Sir  John 
Herschel. 

And  God  said,  Let  there  be  lights  in  the  firmament  of  the  heaven 
to  dicide  the  day  from  the  night ;  and  let  them  be  for  signs,  and  for 
seasons,  and  for  days,  and  years :  and  let  them  be  for  lights  in  the  firma- 
ment of  the  heaven  to  give  light  upon  the  earth. — Gen.  i.  14,  15. 

So  the  sacred  writer  described,  in  the  first  early 
dawn  of  Science,  and  in  the  first  early  dawn  of  Reve- 
lation, the  creation  and  the  purpose  of  that  vast  celes- 
tial mechanism  which  has  exercised  the  minds  of  men 
ever  since.  It  is  a  striking  instance  of  the  mode  in 
which  the  Bible  does  and  does  not  teach  Science.  Of 
details  it  tells  us  nothing,  or  tells  us  only  what  belonged 
to  the  rude,  unformed  conceptions  of  those  ancient 
times.  Neither  the  gifted  seer,  whoever  it  was,  that 
wrote  that  first  chapter  of  the  Book  of  Genesis,  nor  he, 
the  royal  Psalmist,  who  wrote  that  glorious  hymn  which 
speaks  of  "  the  heavens  declaring  the  glory  of  God," 
had  any  even  the  faintest  insight  into  the  wonders 
which  the  telescope  has  disclosed  to  the  eye  and  the 
mind  of  the  later  generations  of  mankind.  The  "  lights  " 
of  which  the  sacred  historians  or  prophets  spoke  were 
to  them  (such  is  the  meaning  of  the  word)  burning 
"lamps "  or  "  candles  "  suspended  in  the  sky.  The  "  fir- 
mament "  of  heaven  was  to  them  a  solid  blue  surface, 
spread  like  a  canopy  over  the  habitations  of  men.  The 
heavenly  bodies  were  not  to  them  enormous  masses  of 

162 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


163 


worlds,  millions  of  miles  away,  millions  of  ages  old,  but 
bright  flashing  fires,  kindled  for  the  first  time  to  illu- 
minate the  darkness  of  the  freshly  created  earth.  "  He 
made  the  stars  also  "  is  the  one  brief  passing  record 
in  which  the  author  of  Genesis  sums  up,  in  his  account 
of  the  fourth  day  of  Creation,  the  birth  of  those  mighty 
systems,  each  almost  a  universe  in  itself. 

That  corner  of  infinite  space  in  which  men  dwelt 
still  seemed  the  centre  of  the  whole.  None  knew  as 
yet  the  vast  "  ordinances  of  heaven ; " 1  none  knew 
"  the  balancings  of  the  clouds,"  "  the  wondrous  works 
of  Him  that  is  perfect  in  knowledge."  It  was  not  the 
Divine  will  that  the  Chosen  People  should  be  prema- 
ture astronomers  or  premature  geologists.  Other  and 
nobler  truths  than  these  were  committed  to  the  race  of 
Israel  —  not  the  wisdom  concerning  earth  or  sky,  but 
concerning  man  and  God,  not  (as  Baronius  quaintly 
but  wisely  says)  "the  revelation  of  how  the  heaven 
goeth,  but  the  revelation  of  how  we  must  go  to  heaven." 

But,  although  this  gradual  and  imperfect  growth  of 
knowledge  is  involved  in  the  very  structure  of  the 
sacred  books,  although  it  is  as  unjust  to  the  Bible  as  it 
is  vexatious  to  Science,  to  endeavor  to  reduce  scientific 
systems  into  conformity  with  the  Biblical  accounts,  or 
to  require  the  Bible  to  give  us  scientific  systems  —  this 
does  not  prevent,  nay,  rather  it  assists  the  sacred 
writers,  in  giving  us  the  gefrns,  the  principles,  the 
framework,  of  that  which  has,  in  the  slow  march  of 
ages,  been  developed,  we  may  almost  say,  into  a  new 
revelation. 

Most  remarkably  is  this  the  case  with  respect  to 
astronomy.  There  are  two  characteristics  of  the  Bibli- 
cal accounts  of  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  that  con- 
tain the  first  stimulating  thoughts  of  all  the  discoveries 

i  Job  xxxvii.  15, 16;  xxxviii.  33. 


164 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


which  have  since  been  achieved.  They  belong  to  that 
side  of  the  Bible  which  it  possesses,  not  so  much  from 
its  directly  didactic  character,  but  from  that  grandeur 
and  solemnity  of  view  which  is  the  inalienable  treasure 
of  every  book,  of  every  mind,  of  every  prospect  of 
man  or  nature,  in  proportion  as  it  rises,  whether  by 
grace  or  genius,  above  the  commonplace  level  of  ordi- 
nary trivial  things. 

The  first  of  these  characteristics  is  the  profound 
sense  which  the  Biblical  writers  display  of  the  sublim- 
ity and  beauty  of  the  divine  order  of  heaven  and  earth. 
They  knew  not,  they  could  not  know,  what  it  meant  in 
all  its  parts.  But  it  struck  a  poetic  fire  out  of  their 
inmost  souls,  that  reproduced  itself  in  thoughts  and 
words,  of  which  the  childlike  simplicity  is  only  equalled 
by  their  inborn  and  supreme  nobility.  Human  lan- 
guage has  performed  many  marvellous  feats  since  the 
first  chapter  of  Genesis  was  written  ;  but  the  saying  of 
the  heathen  Longinus  sixteen  hundred  years  ago  is  still 
true  —  that  nothing  more  sublime  has  ever  been  spoken 
than  the  words,  "  And  God  said,  Let  there  be  light, 
and  there  was  light."  The  hues  of  the  rising  and  the 
setting  sun  have  been  depicted  by  many  a  poet  and 
many  a  painter,  have  been  analyzed  by  many  a  scien- 
tific process,  by  many  an  optic  tube,  since  the  shep- 
herd-king watched  the  rays  of  the  early  morning  dart 
over  the  level  line  of  the  hills  of  Moab ;  yet  no  more 
life-like  description  has  ever  been  given  in  few  words 
than  that  of  the  sudden  emergence  of  the  sun's  bright 
face  like  that  of  a  joyous  bridegroom  on  his  wedding- 
day  from  the  curtain  of  his  secret  chamber  —  of  the 
startling  bound  with  which  he  leaps  over  the  dark 
ridge  of  the  eastern  mountains  like  a  giant  rejoicing  to 
run  his  course.  The  Grecian  poets  have  sung  of  the 
repose  of  immortals  and  the  toils  of  mortals,  have 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


165 


handled  with  delicate  touch  the  lights  and  shades  of 
sea  and  sky ;  but  we  might  search  in  vain  for  any 
expression  of  intense  and  abounding  joyousness  in  the 
beauty  of  creation  for  its  own  sake  equal  to  that  which 
the  Book  of  Job  describes  when  it  tells  us,  that  at  the 
laying  of  the  foundation-stone  of  the  world,  "  the  morn- 
ing stars  sang  together,  and  all  the  sons  of  God  shouted 
for  joy." 1  The  Mosaic  cosmogonist,  the  Psalmist  of 
Bethlehem,  the  Idumean  patriarch,  could  supply  no 
theory  of  the  universe ;  but  they  felt  assured  that  in 
those  glorious  orbs  there  was  an  indication  of  divine 
power  and  wisdom  beyond  what  they  saw  more  closely 
around  them.  They  were  prepared,  and  they  prepared 
others,  to  hear  more ;  they  put  themselves  and  the 
world  into  an  admiring,  reverential,  listening  attitude. 

And  this  brings  me  to  the  second  point  which  I 
would  name.  They  felt  that  there  was  something  in 
these  wonders  which  man  was  intended  to  understand 
and  to  read.  At  times  they  are  overwhelmed  by  the 
greatness  of  the  mystery  —  they  look  up  in  dumb 
astonishment :  "  When  I  consider  Thy  heavens,  the 
work  of  Thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars  which 
Thou  hast  ordained,  what  is  man,  that  Thou  art  mind- 
ful of  him  ?  "  2  "  Canst  thou,"  it  is  said  to  Job,  "  canst 
thou  bind  the  sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades,  or  loose 
the  bands  of  Orion?  Canst  thou  bring  forth  the  con- 
stellations 3  in  their  season,  or  guide  Arcturus  with  his 
sons  ? " 4  But  these  very  phrases  imply  a  search,  a 
yearning  after  the  hidden  truth,  the  very  opposite  of 
dull  indifference  or  superstitious  fear.  They  mount  at 
times  into  the  full  expression  of  what  a  great  French 
scholar  calls  "the  grand  curiosity"  of  a  scientific  and 
inquiring  age.   "  There  is  neither  speech  nor  language  " 


1  Job  xxxviii.  7.  2  Ps.  viii.  3. 

8  Mazzaroth,  probably  the  signs  of  the  zodiac.     4  Job  xxxviii.  31,  32. 


166 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


(so  David  sings)  in  those  distant  stars ;  "  neither  are 
their  voices  heard."  Yet,  in  spite  of  their  silence, 
"  their  sound  "  —  a  sound  of  their  own  —  "  is  gone 
forth  through  all  lands,  and  their  words  unto  the  ends 
of  the  earth.  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  night 
unto  night  revealeth  knowledge." 1  Those  lights  which 
were  set  in  the  firmament  of  heaven  were  already  seen 
to  be  not  mere  purposeless  ornaments,  not  mere  twin- 
kling fireflies ;  they  were  set  there  (so  the  primeval  his- 
torian tells  us)  "  for  signs  and  for  seasons,  and  for  days 
and  years."  2  They  were  there  for  man  to  interpret,  to 
explain ;  to  hear  that  silent  sound ;  to  read  those  inar- 
ticulate words ;  to  educe  out  of  their  mystic  dances  and 
labyrinthine  movements,  order  and  law,  the  ideas  of 
time  and  of  space,  the  witness  which  they  bore  to  the 
glory  of  the  first  creative  Cause,  the  service  which  they 
rendered  to  the  use  of  the  last  created  being. 

That  miserable  antagonism  which  later  ages  have 
imagined  between  Religion  and  Science,  had  no  place 
in  those  venerable  oracles  of  God ;  that  unnatural  civil 
war  which  in  modern  times  has  been  waged  under  the 
opposing  flags  of  Faith  and  Reason,  would  have  awak- 
ened not  the  slightest  echo,  because  it  would  not  have 
had  the  slightest  meaning,  in  the  minds  of  those  primi- 
tive theologians,  of  those  sacred  philosophers. 

If  that  question  to  Job  has  in  our  days  been  all  but 
answered ;  if  there  have  arisen  those  who  have  ana- 
lyzed "  the  sweet  influences  of  the  Pleiades,  and  brought 
forth  the  constellations  in  their  seasons ;  "  if  the  simple 
reckonings  "  of  days  and  years  and  signs  and  seasons  " 
have  grown  up  into  the  vast  systems  of  astronomy  and 
chronology,  of  Kepler  and  of  Newton ;  if  the  silent 
language  of  the  stars  has  been  read  and  expounded  in 
all  lands  from  the  Arctic  Pole  to  the  Antarctic  Ocean 


i  Ps.  xix.  2-4. 


*  Gen.  i.  14. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


167 


—  it  is  because  He  who  set  those  lights  in  the  firma- 
ment of  the  heavens  willed  that  there  should  be  cor- 
responding lights  in  the  human  soul  on  earth ;  it  is 
because  He  planted  an  instinct  in  the  spirit  of  man, 
which,  in  the  presence  of  these  wonders  of  creation, 
longed  to  see  them  face  to  face,  eye  to  eye ;  it  is  be- 
cause in  these  early  records  of  the  Book  of  books  there 
was  implied  and  expressed  that  craving  for  an  inter- 
preter, for  a  translator,  for  an  explainer  of  those  mys- 
teries ;  because,  whilst  clothing  their  bright  ideas  of 
the  universe  in  such  shreds  of  knowledge  as  they  could 
put  together,  they  were  filled  with  a  fearless  desire  for 
light,  an  eager  restless  movement  after  truth,  such  as 
best  befits  the  truly  religious  mind,  such  as  fills  the 
human  soul  with  the  only  true  reverence,  because  it  is 
the  reverence  of  knowledge  and  not  of  ignorance. 

This  is  the  beginning  of  the  world's  astronomy. 
This  is  the  true  relation  of  the  Bible  to  Science.  Not 
a  system  true  or  false,  but  an  opening  and  encourage- 
ment for  all  systems ;  not  a  fixed  letter  to  control  and 
check,  but  a  living  spirit  of  freedom  to  encourage,  and 
stimulate,  all  inquiry. 

I.  Most  instructive  would  be  the  task  to  trace  the 
gradual  progress  of  that  inquiry,  the  full  completion 
of  that  revelation.  But  on  this  day  I  would  confine 
myself  to  such  thoughts  as  are  more  immediately  sug- 
gested by  the  passing  away  from  us  of  one  who  was 
amongst  the  foremost  interpreters  of  nature  in  these 
our  latter  days. 

Such  a  light  set  in  the  firmament  of  earth  to  meet 
the  light  in  the  firmament  of  heaven  has  been  bestowed 
on  us  in  that  gifted  spirit,  whose  mortal  remains  were 
on  Friday  last  laid  beside  his  yet  mightier  master, 
amidst  the  mourning  of  all  that  England  could  show 
of  scientific  genius  and  research. 


168 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


Of  him,  if  of  any,  it  might  be  said  that  he  lived 
amongst  those  celestial  luminaries.  "  Born  under  the 
giant  shadow  of  his  illustrious  father's  telescope,"  in- 
heriting from  him  his  aspiring  tastes,  and  his  uncon- 
querable genius,  the  stars  from  his  earliest  years  were 
his  constant  companions.  "  Light,"  he  used  to  say, 
"  was  his  first  love."  For  him  was  reserved  that  task 
which  the  Book  of  Job  describes  as  of  superhuman 
magnitude  —  the  exploration  for  the  first  time  of  the 
"wonders  without  number,"  not  only  in  the  familiar 
regions  of  the  north,  but  in  M  the  secret  chambers  of 
the  south  "  1  that  Southern  Hemisphere,  whose  marvels 
he  has  himself  so  eloquently  described,  "  where  a  new 
heaven  as  well  as  a  new  earth  is  laid  open  to  the  gaze 
of  the  astronomer,  a  celestial  surface  equal  to  a  fourth 
part  of  the  heavens,  the  vivid  beauty  of  the  Southern 
Cross  sung  by  poets,  and  celebrated  by  the  pen  of  the 
most  accomplished  of  civilized  travellers  "  —  the  con- 
stellations which  neither  Moses,  nor  David,  nor  Galileo, 
nor  Newton  ever  saw,  but  which  shall  look  down  on 
the  future  destinies  of  the  teeming  nations  of  the 
youngest  born  of  the  families  of  earth. 

What  the  Psalmist  regarded  as  the  incommunicable 
attribute  of  divinity,  was  almost  if  not  altogether 
achieved  by  those  twelve  years'  unceasing  labors  and 
unwearied  calculations  of  a  single  man  —  "  He  telleth 
the  number  of  the  stars,  and  calleth  them  all  by  their 
names." 2  The  glorious  sun,  whose  daily  rising  was 
in  the  eyes  of  the  earlier  Psalmist  at  once  so  beautiful 
and  so  mysterious,  became  to  this  latest  of  astronomers 
the  absorbing  subject  at  once  of  his  ardent  imaginings 
and  his  profoundest  speculations.    "  Where  are  thy 

1  "  "Which  maketh  Arcturus,  Orion,  and  Pleiades,  and  the  cham- 
bers "  (Hebrew,  "  the  secret  chambers  ")  "  of  the  south  "  (Job  ix.  9). 

2  Ps.  cxlvii.  4. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


169 


beams,  O  sun,  and  whence  thine  everlasting  light  ? " 
seemed  to  those  who  knew  him  best  the  motto  engraved 
as  it  were  over  his  study  door. 

II.  But  this  is  not  the  place,  nor  is  it  for  him  who 
now  speaks,  to  dwell  on  results  which  those  only  who 
fully  understand  them  can  worthily  report.  Here  let 
us  for  a  few  moments  speak  of  the  moral  lessons  to  be 
learnt  from  the  conclusions  which  those  labors  suggest, 
and  from  the  spirit  in  which  they  were  approached  by 
him  who  is  gone. 

It  was  his  peculiar  privilege  to  combine  with  those 
more  special  studies  such  a  width  of  view,  and  such  a 
power  of  expression,  as  to  make  him  an  interpreter,  a 
poet  of  science,  even  beyond  his  immediate  sphere.  It 
is  this  which  justifies  and  demands  the  development  of 
a  somewhat  larger  range  of  instruction  from  his  career 
than  it  else  would  have  allowed. 

1.  First,  let  us  speak  of  that  which  at  once  appeals 
to  the  ordinary  life  of  all  —  the  effects  of  Science  on 
our  common  interests.  Filled  as  he  was  with  a  pas- 
sionate love  of  abstract  truth,  yet  from  that  very  love 
of  those  high  subjects  he  longed  to  diffuse  the  knowl- 
edge of  them  as  far  and  as  wide  as  he  could  find  eyes 
to  see  or  ears  to  hear  them.  He  was  animated  to  a 
fresh  enthusiasm  by  the  conviction  which  he  labored 
to  impart  to  others,  of  the  vast  practical  importance  of 
scientific  knowledge,  in  "  showing  us  "  (if  I  may  ven- 
ture to  use  his  own  simple  but  most  exhaustive  lan- 
guage) "in  showing  us  how  to  avoid  impossibilities;  in 
securing  us  from  important  mistakes  when  attempting 
what  is  in  itself  possible  by  means  either  inadequate 
or  actually  opposed  to  the  end  in  view ;  in  enabling  us 
to  accomplish  our  ends  in  the  easiest,  shortest,  most 
economical  and  most  effectual  manner ;  in  inducing  us 
to  attempt   and  enabling  us  to  accomplish  objects 


170 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


which  but  for  such  knowledge  we  should  never  have 
thought  of  undertaking."  1  These  are  homely  rules, 
but  they  are  rules  which  can  be  translated  into  the 
highest  experiments  and  enterprises  alike  of  scientific 
study,  of  statesmanlike  policy,  and  of  Christian  benevo- 
lence. 

2.  He  felt,  too,  with  a  strength  rendered  doubly 
strong  by  the  profound  interest  which  he  took  in  the 
more  spiritual  subjects  of  thought,  the  immense  advan- 
tage of  Science  to  Theology  and  Philosophy,  in  teach- 
ing the  necessity  of  accurate  definition,  and  of  testing 
theory  by  fact.  He  felt  and  he  taught  with  all  the 
persuasiveness  of  example  no  less  than  precept,  the 
danger  of  meeting  scientific  questions  with  any  other 
than  scientific  weapons,  "  the  danger  of  mistrusting 
even  for  a  moment  the  grand  and  only  character  of 
Truth  —  its  capability  of  coming  unchanged  out  of 
every  possible  form  of  fair  discussion."  "  Ye  shall 
know  the  truth,  and  the  truth  shall  make  you  free." 2 
How  many  a  cobweb  of  fine-spun  folly,  how  many  an 
imaginary  distinction  of  metaphysics,  how  many  a 
scholastic  entanglement,  how  many  a  baneful  supersti- 
tion —  has  vanished  away  before  the  touch  of  this 
Ithuriel's  spear  of  scientific  research  !  how  firm  a  grasp 
of  reality,  how  strong  and  fresh  a  belief  in  the  3  possi- 
bility of  knowledge  and  certainty,  how  just  a  sense  of 
the  difference  between  false,  artificial  authority  and 
true  natural  authority  —  can  be  given  to  the  least  scien- 
tific of  us  by  such  an  interpretation  of  science  as  that 
which  has  in  these  latter  days  been  afforded  to  us! 
This  is  no  subtraction  from  any  theology  which  de- 

1  Herscliel's  Discourse  on  Natural  Philosophy,  p.  94. 

2  John  viii.  32. 

8  See  the  Duke  of  Argyll's  Essay  in  Contemporary  Review,  May, 
1871,  p.  157. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


171 


serves  the  name.  It  is  giving  new  meaning  to  its 
words,  new  bounds  to  its  domain,  new  life  to  its  skele- 
ton. 

3.  Again,  he,  if  any  of  his  generation,  taught  us  with 
unabated  confidence  the  hope  which  Science  teaches, 
no  less  than  Religion,  but  which,  whether  in  Science 
or  Religion,  the  natural  man  so  shrinks  from  receiving 
—  the  endless  prospect  of  improvement  set  before  man- 
kind in  its  onward  progress.  It  is  the  scientific  version 
of  the  Apostolic  text,  "  Forgetting  those  things  which 
are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  towards  those  things 
which  are  before."  1  Great  as  is  the  duty  of  humility 
to  the  student  of  Science  and  to  the  student  of  The- 
ology, equally  needed  and  often  equally  missed  in  both, 
yet  not  less  needed  for  both,  is  the  duty  of  hope,  of 
boundless  trust  in  the  inexhaustible  resources  which 
the  Giver  of  all  good  things  has  stored  up  in  man  and 
in  nature.  "  The  character  of  the  true  philosopher  is  to 
hope  all  things  not  impossible,  and  to  believe  all  things 
not  unreasonable."  2  We  are  often  asked,  with  a  mix- 
ture of  incredulity  and  despair,  when  any  new  inquiry 
is  set  on  foot,  "  How  far  will  this  take  us  ?  Where  will 
you  stop  ?  "  The  true  answer  is  that  which  he  gave 
with  the  emphasis  of  calm  persuasion,  namely,  that  this 
is  the  very  glory  of  science  —  "  When  once  embarked  in 
any  physical  research,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  to 
predict  where  it  will  ultimately  lead  him."  We  often 
hear  it  said  —  we  often  in  our  indolence  think  —  that 
all  truth  is  old,  and  that  there  is  nothing  new  under 
the  sun.  The  true  answer  of  Science  is  that  which 
again  is  at  once  the  parallel  and  the  illustration  of  the 
language  of  the  Apostle.  "The  mysteries  of  knowl- 
edge, which  in  other  ages  were  not  made  known  unto 
the  sons  of  men,  are  now  revealed,  and  will  be  still 


i  Phil.  iii.  13. 


2  Discourse,  p.  174. 


172 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


more  revealed,  to  those  whom  God  has  chosen." 1  All 
these  thousands  ,of  years  the  many  uses  of  the  sun  and 
moon 2  and  stars  "  were  hidden,  which  are  now  made 
manifest "  to  all  the  world,  even  to  those  who  least 
understand  whence  their  knowledge  came,  or  what  it 
means.  It  was  his  proud,  yet  reverential  boast,  that 
the  students  of  Science  were  "as  messengers  from 
heaven  to  earth  to  make  such  stupendous  announce- 
ments that  they  may  claim  to  be  listened  to,  when  they 
repeat  in  every  variety  of  urgent  instance,  that  these 
are  not  the  last  announcements  which  they  shall  have 
to  communicate ;  that  there  are  yet  behind,  to  search 
out  and  to  declare,  not  only  secrets  of  nature  which 
shall  increase  the  wealth  or  power  of  men,  but  Truths 
which  shall  ennoble  the  age  and  the  country  in  which 
they  are  divulged,  and  by  dilating  the  intellect  react 
on  the  moral  character  of  mankind."  3 

4.  We  often  hear,  from  timid  or  anxious  lips,  that 
the  tendencies  of  Science  lead  towards  a  materialistic 
fatalism.  It  is  at  once  a  consolation  and  a  rebuke  to 
be  told  by  one  who  knew  these  tendencies  well,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  or  ought  to  be  the  result  of  Science 
that,  "  instead  of  being  supinel}7  and  carelessly  carried 
down  the  stream  of  events,  we  now,  by  the  great  re- 
sources put  into  our  hands,  find  ourselves,  as  never 
before,  capable  of  buffetting  with  its  waves,  and  per- 
haps of  riding  triumphantly  over  them  ;  for  why  should 
we  despair  that  the  Science  which  has  enabled  us  to 
subdue  all  nature  to  our  purposes,  should  (if  permitted 
and  assisted  by  the  providence  of  God)  achieve  the  far 
more  difficult  conquest  of  enabling  the  collective  wis- 
dom of  mankind  to  bear  down  the  obstacles  which 
individual  short-sightedness,  selfishness,  and  passion 
oppose  to  all  improvements  ?  "  4 

1  Eph.  iii.  5.    Col.  i.  26.  2  Discourse,  p.  308. 

8  Hersohel'9  Essays,  p.  550.  4  Discourse,  p.  74. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


173 


This  is  the  scientific  form,  in  which  we  read  as  in  a 
parable  the  counterpart,  and  therefore  the  support,  of 
that  which  Hegel  truly  called  the  most  conspicuous 
mark  of  the  Divinity  of  the  Son  of  Man  —  His  freedom 
from,  His  triumph  over,  the  destiny  of  time  and  cir- 
cumstance :  "  In  the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation : 
but  be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  overcome  the  world."  1 

5.  Again,  not  with  high-vaunting  words,  but  with  the 
simplest  and  most  serious  assurance,  he  saw  in  the 
Unity  of  Science  the  reflection,  the  inevitable  reflection, 
of  the  Unity  of  one  Supreme  Life  and  Will.  We  are 
told  that  every  theory  and  research  of  Science  is  con- 
verging towards  absolute  simplification,  towards  re- 
solving form  after  form,  and  species  after  species,  into 
some  one  common  element,  or  some  one  common  origin, 
instead  of  the  endless  multiplicity  of  distinctions  which 
the  more  barbarous  ages  of  the  world  assumed.  There 
may  be  much  in  this  which  is  exaggerated,  much  which 
we  cannot  understand,  much  which  may  startle,  shock, 
confound  us.  Yet  there  is  a  reassuring  side  of  this 
great  argument.  This  truth  of  the  unity  of  all  things, 
which  he  in  common  with  others  of  his  mighty  fellow- 
laborers  has  put  before  us,  is  but  the  statement  by  sci- 
entific process  and  in  scientific  language  of  the  same 
doctrine  which  in  one  short,  sublime  sentence,  was  pro- 
claimed from  Mount  Sinai,  "  The  Lord  thy  God  is  one 
Lord,"  or  which  stands  at  the  opening  of  the  first  page 
of  the  first  sacred  book,  "  In  the  beginning  God  created 
the  heaven  and  the  earth."  "  Chaos,"  as  our  departed 
teacher  well  put  the  case,  "  is  the  natural  counterpart 
of  Polytheism  ;  "  "  Kosmos,"  2  the  adornment,  the  ideal 
beauty,  harmony,  and  grace,  the  unvarying  law  of  the 
universe,  is  the  natural  counterpart  of  the  belief  in  the 
one  Supreme  Mind  of  the  one  Creator  and  Lawgiver  of 

l  John  xvi.  33.  >  Essays,  p.  28;  Discourse,  p.  266. 


174 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


all.  "  It  is  in  this  conservation  of  order  in  the  midst 
of  perplexity,  in  this  ultimate  compensation  brought 
about  by  the  continual  action  of  causes  which  appear 
at  first  sight  pregnant  with  subversion  and  decay  — 
that  we  trace  the  Master  wisdom  with  whom  the  dark- 
ness is  even  as  the  light." 1  This  is  the  Religion  of 
Nature ;  but  it  is  also  only  another  formula  for  that 
which,  in  the  Religion  of  the  Bible,  is  called  the  doc- 
trine of  Redemption  and  of  Grace. 

6.  And  yet  once  more,  in  that  vast  expansion  of  the 
systems  of  the  universe  which  Galileo  first  revealed  to 
us,  which  Newton  explained,  which  the  two  Herschels 
classified  and  analyzed,  if  our  first  feeling  be  one  of  de- 
pression and  bewilderment,  surely  the  final  conclusion 
of  Science  is  also  the  final  conclusion  of  the  Apostle,  in 
the  favorite  text  of  Bacon,  Oh  the  depth  of  the  riches 
both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God ! " 2  It  is 
the  great  doctrine,  faintly,  dimly,  imperfectly  believed 
by  our  forefathers  indicated,  in  passing,  by  one  obscure 
word  in  one  of  the  least  edifying  of  our  Creeds,  but  by 
these  wonderful  disclosures,  confirmed,  vivified,  illus- 
trated, reverberated  from  pole  to  pole,  from  system  to 
system  —  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine  Infinitude,  the 
Divine  Immensity.  It  is  the  intellectual,  the  scientific 
side  of  the  same  attribute  which  in  the  moral  nature  of 
God  we  call  His  all-embracing  compassion,  His  bound- 
less toleration,  His  all-penetrating  justice,  His  inex- 
haustible forbearance.  "  There  are  bodies  celestial  and 
bodies  terrestrial  —  one  star  differing  from  another  star 
in  glory." 3  This  was  the  very  image  by  which,  even 
with  the  imperfect  knowledge  of  that  age,  the  Apostle 
represented  the  divine  truth  which  his  Master  had  pro- 
claimed in  the  simpler  form,  so  grand,  so  comprehen- 
sive, yet  so  tender,  "  In  my  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions." 4 

i  Essays,  pp.  257,  258.    2  Rom.  xi.  33.    *  1  Cor.  xv.  40,  41.   *  John  xiv.  2. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


175 


Such  are  some  of  the  relations  of  Science  to  Religion, 
of  the  relations  of  the  heavens  that  are  without  us,  to 
the  yet  greater  heavens  that  are  within  us,  which  the 
world  and  the  Church  may  learn  from  all  the  true  stu- 
dents of  nature,  and  in  a  special  degree  from  him  who 
is  laid  amongst  us  here. 

III.  And  now  let  us  draw  aside  the  curtain  a  little 
further,  and  pass  to  the  yet  more  practical  lesson  from 
the  spirit  in  which  he  labored.  Surely  it  is  profitable 
to  every  one  of  us,  to  contemplate  that  long  life  wholly 
given  to  those  lofty,  unselfish  aims  —  working,  as  he 
himself  expressed,  "  like  a  working  bee  at  home,"  work- 
ing to  the  very  end,  reserving  almost  his  only  indigna- 
tion for  that  spirit  of  idleness  and  luxury  which  spends 
life  without  using  it,  which  dissipates  life  without  civil- 
izing it.  There  is  no  child  here  present  who  may  not 
take  heart  from  the  thought  that  these  memorable  labors 
took  their  rise  in  the  filial  pride  and  affection  which 
enkindled  in  him  the  noble  ambition  to  complete  what 
his  famous  father  had  begun.  There  is  no  young  man 
here  amongst  my  hearers  who  may  not  be  stimulated  in 
a  steadfast,  onward  course,  when  he  is  told  of  those 
early  college  days,  when  the  3'oung  Herschel  with  two 
or  three  of  his  friends  vowed  (like  a  similar  band  almost 
at  the  same  time  1  in  a  great  neighboring  nation)  that 
"  they  would  put  their  shoulders  to  the  wheel,  and  leave 
the  world  better  than  they  found  it."  There  is  not  a 
student  or  a  politician,  there  is  not  an  artisan  or  an 
artist,  of  whatever  kind,  who  may  not  be  moved  by  the 
bin-uing  words  in  which  the  English  philosopher  six- 
anu-twenty  years  ago  urged  on  his  laggard  countrymen 
to  follow  the  example,  even  then  bright  with  transcend- 
ent brightness,  of  the  science  and  industry  of  Germany ; 
when  he  implored  them  to  bear  in  mind  that  amidst  the 

1  See  Life  of  Baron  Bunsen. 


176 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


vast  overwhelming  accumulation  of  facts  forced  in  upon 
us  from  every  quarter,1  "what  we  want  is  Thought, 
steadily  directed  to  single  objects,  with  a  determination 
to  eschew  the  besetting  evil  of  our  age,  the  temptation 
to  squander  and  dilute  it  on  a  thousand  different  lines 
of  inquiry.  The  philosopher  must  be  wedded  to  his 
subject  if  he  would  see  the  children  and  the  children's 
children  of  his  intellect  flourishing  in  honor  around 
him."  There  is  not  a  soul  engaged  in  the  turmoils  of 
private  or  of  public  life,  of  science,  or  theology,  or 
statesmanship,  who  may  not  be  raised  beyond  their 
petty  trivialities  by  thinking  of  that  venerable  sage 
who  lived  through  his  long  years  above  the  stir  of  con- 
troversies, which  he  shunned,  not  from  indifference,  but 
from  principle  ;  without  the  slightest  spark  of  unworthy 
rivalry  either  towards  men  or  towards  nations,  fired 
only  by  that  noble  glow  which  results  from  companion- 
ship in  honorable  effort.2  M  True  Science,  like  true 
Religion,  is  wide-embracing  in  its  aims  and  objects. 
Let  interests  divide  the  worldly,  and  jealousies  torment 
the  envious.  The  true  votaries  of  science  breathe,  or 
long  to  breathe,  a  purer  air.  The  common  pursuit  of 
truth,"  whether  sacred  or  scientific,  "is  itself  a  brother- 
hood." 3  There  is  no  one,  old  or  young,  who  may  not 
be  soothed  and  elevated  by  the  remembrance  of  the 
calm,  cheerful,  simple,  sanguine  faith  with  which  he 
rose  towards  truth  and  light  of  whatever  kind,  like  his 
own  favorite  bird,  ever  soaring  towards  the  dazzling, 
sunbright  sky  —  lark-like,  "  true  to  the  kindred  points 
of  heaven  and  home."4  "To  spring  even  a  little  way 
aloft,  to  carol  for  a  while  in  bright  and  sunny  regions, 
—  to  open  out  around  us,  at  all  events,  views  commen- 
surate with  our  extent  of  vision,  —  to  rise  to  the  level 


i  Essays,  p.  651.    See  also  p.  17.  2  Ibid.,  pp.  30,  634. 

8  Ibid.,  p.  680.  4  "Wordsworth. 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


177 


of  our  strength,  and  if  we  must  sink  again,  to  sink  not 
exhausted  but  exercised,  not  dulled  in  spirit  but  cheered 
in  heart  —  such  may  be  the  contented  and  happy  lot  of 
him  who  can  repose  with  equal  confidence  on  the  bosom 
of  earth,  or  rise  above  the  mists  of  earth  into  the  em- 
pyrean day."  1  Such,  assuredly,  was  his  lot  of  whom 
we  speak  — "  always  eager  to  cast  down  '  the  High 
Places  and  Groves  of  Ignorance,'  and  to  open  the  doors 
of  the  human  mind  to  let  in  light  and  knowledge  ;  yet 
always  sure  that  right  would  come  right  at  last,  always 
content  to  urge  the  right  rather  than  fight  the  wrong." 

One  remark  in  conclusion,  which  I  will  preface  by  a 
fine  passage  from  one  of  his  own  popular  addresses,  in 
which  he  urges  on  his  hearers  the  inestimable  advan- 
tages of  a  taste  for  reading  good  authors.  "  Give  a 
man,"  he  said,  "  this  taste,  and  you  place  him  in  contact 
with  the  best  society  in  every  period  of  history,  with 
the  wisest,  the  wittiest,  with  the  tenderest,  the  bravest, 
and  the  purest  of  characters,  who  have  adorned  human- 
ity ;  you  make  him  a  denizen  of  all  nations,  a  contem- 
porary of  all  ages.  The  world  has  been  created  for 
him.  It  is  hardly  possible  but  the  character  should 
take  a  higher  and  better  tone  from  the  constant  habit 
of  associating  with  thinkers  above  the  average  of 
humanity.  It  is  morally  impossible  but  that  the  man- 
ners should  take  a  tinge  of  good  breeding  and  civiliza- 
tion, from  having  before  one's  eyes  the  way  in  which 
the  best  bred  and  the  best  informed  men  have  talked 
and  acted.'"2  It  was  in  a  yet  higher  mood  of  the  same 
vein  of  thought  that,  many  years  ago,  in  the  hearing  of 
one  who  well  remembers  it,  there  fell  from  his  lips  a 
like  saying,  in  a  burst  of  fine  moral  enthusiasm :  — 
"  Surely  if  the  worst  of  men  were  transported  to  Para- 
dise for  only  half  an  hour,  amongst  the  company  of  the 
great  and  good,  he  would  come  back  convex  ced." 

i  Essays,  pp.  259,  737.  2  Essays,  p.  12. 


178 


SCIENCE  AND  RELIGION. 


Such,  in  its  measure,  is  the  privilege  which  we  have 
had  and  may  have  in  dwelling  even  for  a  short  time  on 
the  words  and  thoughts  of  a  soul  so  pure  and  noble  as 
that  which  has  gone  from  us.  Such,  still  more,  is  the 
privilege  of  those  who  were  his  companions  and  friends ; 
who  traced  him  from  his  blameless  youth  to  his  honored 
grave ;  who  were  drawn  round  him  in  his  quiet  and 
simple  home  by  the  charm  of  his  genius,  by  the  yet 
more  inexpressible  tenderness  of  his  affections ;  who 
now  gaze  up  into  heaven  after  him — the  outward 
heaven,  where  his  name  is  written  in  the  stars,  the 
spiritual  heaven,  where  his  name  is  written  in  the  Book 
of  Life. 

For  us,  let  us  trust  that  he  has  "  left  the  world  better 
than  he  found  it."  For  himself,  let  us  use  those  hum- 
ble and  holy  words  of  his  own  — 

Enough,  if  cleansed  at  last  from  earthly  stain, 

My  homeward  step  be  firm,  and  pure  my  evening  sky.1 

1  Essays,  p.  741. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 


June  25,  1871,  being  the  Sunday  after  the  funeral  of  George  Grote  the 

Historian. 

The  "just "  shall  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance. 
Psalm  cxii.  6. 

It  is  now  more  than  six  hundred  years  ago  since  one 
of  the  earliest  fathers  of  English  history,  an  inmate  of 
the  venerable  Abbey  of  St.  Alban's,  which  nurtured  the 
first  school  of  English  historical  learning,  recounted,  at 
the  commencement  of  his  work,  how  he  was  vexed  by 
questions,  some  put  by  envious  detractors,  some  arising 
from  serious  perplexity,  whether  the  record  of  times 
that  were  dead  and  gone  was  worthy  of  the  labor  and 
study  of  Christian  men.  He  replied,  with  a  lofty  con- 
sciousness of  the  greatness  of  his  task,  first  by  an  appeal 
to  the  highest  instincts  of  man ;  and  then  added,  as  a 
further  and  complete  sanction  of  those  instincts,  the 
words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  The  just  shall  be  had  in  ever- 
lasting remembrance."    "  In  mew.orid  ceternd  erit  Justus" 

These  are  simple  and  familiar  words ;  but  the  Chron- 
icler of  St.  Alban's  was  right  in  saying  that  they  con- 
tain the  principle  which  vindicates  and  sanctifies  all 
historical  research. 

"  If  thou,"  he  said  to  his  readers,  "  if  thou  forgettest 
and  despisest  the  departed  of  past  generations,  who  will 
remember  thee  ?  "  "It  was  to  keep  alive,"  so  he  added, 
"  the  memory  of  the  good,  and  teach  us  to  abhor  the 
bad,  that  all  the  sacred  historians  have  striven,  from 

179 


180  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 

Moses  down  to  '  the  deep-souled ' 1  chroniclers  of  the 
years  in  which  we  ourselves  are  living." 

The  religious  sense  of  History  which  Matthew  Paris 
thus  endeavored  to  convey  has  never  since  altogether 
died  out  from  amongst  us,  and  it  may  be  well  to  express 
it  once  more  on  this  occasion,  when  it  has  been  brought 
to  our  minds  by  the  solemn  ceremony  which  yesterday 
consigned  to  the  grave  the  remains  of  a  great  scholar, 
whose  life  was  spent  in  historical  study. 

As  on  a  like  occasion  not  long  ago  I  dwelt  on  the 
religious  aspect  of  Science,  so  now  I  propose  to  dwell 
on  the  religious  aspect  of  History.  As  then  we  were 
invited  to  express  our  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  good, 
for  the  genius  of  one  who  "told  the  number  of  the  stars, 
and  called  them  all  by  their  names,"  so  now  we  are 
invited  to  give  thanks  for  the  gift  which  God  has  be- 
stowed on  the  Church  and  realm  of  England,  in  the 
genius  of  one  who  could  call  up  the  spirits  of  the  mighty 
dead,  and  "  seek  out  the  secrets  of  grave  sentences,  and 
try  the  good  and  the  evil  among  men."  2 

Let  us  take  the  words  of  the  text  as  the  groundwork 
of  our  thoughts. 

I.  ."  Everlasting  remembrance,"  "eternal  memory" 
—  "a  memorial  that  shall  endure  from  generation  to 
generation."  This  is  what  History  aims  to  accomplish 
for  the  ages  of  the  past. 

As  we  are  reminded  both  by  Scripture  and  by  expe- 
rience of  the  noble,  the  inextinguishable  desire  im- 
planted within  us,  to  understand  and  to  bring  near  to 
us  the  wonders  of  the  firmanent,  so  in  like  manner  we 
may  be  assured  that  there  lies  deep  in  the  human  heart 
a  desire  not  less  noble,  not  less  insatiable,  to  understand 
aud  to  bring  near  to  us  the  wonders  of  the  ages  that  are 

1  "  Pectoris  Profundi,"  Matthew  Paris,  Hist.  Major,  pp.  1,  2. 

2  Ecclus.  xxxix.  3,  4. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY.  181 


dead  and  buried.  "  I  have  considered  the  days  of  old, 
and  the  years  that  are  past ;  I  will  remember  the  years 
of  the  right  hand  of  the  most  Highest ;  I  will  call  to 
mind  His  wonders  of  old  time  ;  "  1  "I  will  declare  hard 
sentences  of  old,  which  our  fathers  have  told  us,  that 
we  should  not  hide  them  from  the  children  of  the  gene- 
rations to  come."  2  It  is  this  continuity  of  purpose,  this 
progression  of  ages,  this  connection  of  the  deeds  and 
thoughts  of  those  that  are  gone  with  the  deeds  and 
thoughts  of  men  now  upon  earth,  that  as  truly  disclose 
the  mind  of  God  in  the  world  of  man,  as  the  order,  and 
harmony,  and  progression  of  the  celestial  bodies  disclose 
it  in  the  world  of  nature.  The  Astronomer  is  the  histo- 
rian of  the  heavens  ;  the  Historian  is  the  star-gazer  into 
the  dark  night  of  the  past.  As  the  philosophic  dis- 
coverer enables  us  to  distinguish  the  several  distances 
of  the  fixed  stars  from  each  other,  which  to  common 
eyes  are  lost  in  the  sense  of  their  distance  from  us,  so 
the  philosophic  historian  distinguishes,  for  those  who 
cannot  see  as  far  a-s  he,  the  several  distances  of  the  stars 
in  the  moral  world,  "one  star  differing  from  another 
star  in  glory,"  according  to  their  opportunities,  their 
age,  their  characters.  As  the  telescope  enables  the  man 
of  science  to  resolve  the  nebulous  clusters  of  the  milky 
way  into  the  distinct  worlds  of  which  each  cluster  is 
composed,  so  the  microscope  of  scholarship  enables  the 
man  of  letters  to  resolve  the  nebulous  mist  of  primeval 
tradition  into  the  distinct  elements  out  of  which  it  has 
been  gradually  formed.  As  the  celestial  spheres  are 
mapped  out  by  the  natural  student  to  guide  the  mariner, 
and  "for  times,  and  for  seasons,  and  for  days,  and  for 
years,"  so  the  spheres  of  earthly  events  are  mapped  out 
by  the  historical  student,  and  the  monuments  of  glory 
and  the  beacons  of  danger  are  set  along  the  shores  of 

1  Pa.  lxxvii.  5,  10,  11.  a  Ps.  lxxviii.  2-4. 


182 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 


the  past,  to  direct  us  through  the  trackless  ocean  of  the 
future.  Happy,  thrice  happy  he  who  has  the  ears  to 
hear  those  voices  of  the  dead  which  others  cannot  hear ; 
who  has  the  eyes  to  see  those  visions  of  the  ancient 
times  which  to  others  are  dim  and  dark.  History  may 
be  fallible  and  uncertain,  but  it  is  our  only  guide  to  the 
great  things  that  God  has  wrought  for  the  race  of  man 
in  former  ages  ;  it  is  the  only  means  through  which  "  we 
can  hear,  and  "  through  which  "  our  fathers  can  declare 
to  us  the  noble  works  which  He  has  done  in  their  days, 
and  in  the  old  time  before  them." 

II.  And  not  only  the  religion  of  the  natural  man, 
but  the  whole  structure  of  the  Bible  is  a  testimony  to 
the  sacredness  and  the  value  of  historical  learning. 
Unlike  all  other  sacred  books,  the  sacred  books  both  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testament  are,  at  least  half  in  each, 
not  poetical,  or  dogmatical,  but  historical.  Even  the 
poetic  and  dogmatic  parts  are  for  the  most  part  mate- 
rials for  history.  The  Prophets  of  the  Old  Testament 
are  also  historians.  The  visions  of  Daniel  are,  as  has 
been  often  observed,  the  first  signal  example  of  the 
Philosophy  of  History.  Nor  is  it  merely  in  form,  but 
in  spirit,  that  this  truth  is  set  forth  before  us  in  the 
Bible.  The  Religion  of  Christendom  has,  besides  its 
other  transcendent  marks  of  superiority,  this  broad  dis- 
tinction from  all  other  religions,. that  it  is  essentially 
historical.  Of  the  three  great  manifestations  of  God  to 
man,  in  nature,  in  conscience,  in  the  course  of  human 
events,  — "  God  in  History  "  will  to  a  large  part  of 
mankind  be  the  most  persuasive.  On  the  great  scale  of 
the  world's  movements  we  see  impressed  the  "  unceas- 
ing purpose  "  of  the  Creator;  on  the  smaller  scale  of 
the  lives  of  heroes,  saints,  and  sages,  we  see  the  highest 
efforts  of  the  Creature. 

Doctrine,  precept,  warning,  exhortation,  all  are  in- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 


183 


vested  with  double  charms  when  clothed  in  the  flesh 
and  blood  of  historical  facts.  If  there  has  been  an 
"everlasting  remembrance"  of  One  supremely  Just,  in 
whom  the  Divine  Mind  was  made  known  to  man  in  a 
special  and  transcendent  degree,  it  is  because  that  Just 
One,  the  Holy  and  the  True,  "  became  flesh  and  dwelt 
amongst  us,"  and  became  (so  let  us  speak  with  all  rev- 
erence and  all  truth)  the  subject  of  historical  descrip- 
tion, of  historical  research,  of  historical  analysis,  of 
historical  comparison.  The  sacred  historians  of  the 
Jewish  Commonwealth,  still  more  the  simple,  homely, 
but  profound  historians  of  the  New  Testament  whom 
we  call  the  Evangelists,  are  the  most  impressive  of  all 
preachers.  They  are  subject  doubtless  to  the  same 
laws,  to  the  same  difficulties  as  other  histories,  and  it 
is  from  the  illustration  of  other  histories  that  they  can 
alone  be  fully  understood  and  appreciated.  But  in 
themselves  they  are  the  enduring  witness  in  the  Book 
of  books  to  the  immortal  power  of  history  in  the  educa- 
tion of  mankind. 

III.  And  this  power  is  not  confined  to  the  history  of 
the  Jewish  people,  or  of  the  Christian  Church.  It  ex- 
tends to  the  history  of  "  the  nations  "  —  of  "  the  Gen- 
tiles," as  they  are  called  in  the  Bible. 

Those  of  us  who  were  present  at  the  splendid  dis- 
course 1  which  on  Sunday  last  thrilled  the  vast  congre- 
gation within  these  walls,  and  who  heard  the  preacher's 
indignant  repudiation  of  the  common  mode  of  dividing 
secular  from  sacred  history,  will  not  need  to  be  per- 
suaded of  the  great  Catholic  and  Evangelical  doctrine 
that  whatever  was  or  is  good  and  true  in  any  race  of 
men,  is  equally  precious  in  the  sight  of  God;  that 
Greece  and  Rome  as  well  as  Judaea  had  their  own  dis- 

1  Sermon  preached  by  the  Bishop  of  Peterborough  in  Westminster 
Abbey  on  the  evening  oi  June  18, 1871. 


184  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 

linct  parts  allotted  to  them  in  the  guidance  and  prog- 
ress of  the  world. 

'  Over  and  over  again  is  this  truth  expressed  in  the 
Bible,  "  The  just,"  without  reserve,  in  whatever  nation, 
and  of  whatever  creed,  "  is  to  .be  had  in  everlasting 
remembrance."  "  Whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatso- 
ever things  are  honest,  whatsoever  things  are  just,  what- 
soever things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely, 
whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be  any 
virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise,"  1  in  whatsoever  race,  or 
under  whatsoever  form,  —  these  things  are  the  legiti- 
mate, the  sacred,  subjects  which  the  Father  of  all  good 
gifts  has  charged  the  historians  of  the  world  to  read 
and  to  record  wheresoever  they  can  be  discerned. 

The  Apostle  St.  Peter  received  the  heathen  soldier 
of  the  Italian  band  with  the  undoubting  assurance  that 
"in  every  nation  he  that  feareth  God  and  worketh 
righteousness  is  accepted  with  Him." 2  The  Apostle 
St.  Paul,  in  contemplating  the  whole  Gentile  world,3 
declared  that  "not  the  hearers  of  the  law  are  just 
before  God,  but  the  doers  of  the  law  are  justified ;  for 
when  the  Gentiles,  which  have  not  the  law,  do  by 
nature  the  things  contained  in  the  law,  these,  having 
not  the  law,  are  a  law  unto  themselves."  The  Apostle 
St.  John  declared  that  "  he  who  doeth  righteousness  is 
righteous."4  And  the  Master  and  Lord  of  Peter,  Paul, 
and  John,  welcomed  with  His  own  special  favor  the 
Roman  centurion,5  whose  faith  exceeded  all  that  He 
had  found  in  Israel ;  and  hailed  the  coming  of  the 
Greek  inquirers 6  who  sought  to  see  Him  on  the  eve  of 
His  departure  ;  and  declared  in  language  not  to  be  mis- 
taken, that  when  "  all  the  nations  "  should  be  assembled 
before  the  Son  of  man  at  the  last  day,  His  gracious 


1  Phil.  iv.  8. 
*  1  John  iii.  7. 


2  Acts  x.  35. 

6  Matt.  viii.  10, 11. 


s  Rom.  ii.  13, 14. 
«  John  xii.  20-26. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY.  185 

benediction  would  be  pronounced  on  all  those  that  had 
done  good  to  their  fellow-men,  even  though  they  had 
never  heard  His  voice,  nor  named  His  name ; 1  even 
though  they  had  never  said  Lord,  Lord,  yet,  if  they  had 
done  His  Father's  will,  if  they  had  ministered  to  His 
brethren  on  earth —  this,  and  this  alone,  was  sufficient 
to  win  His  supreme  approval. 

IV.  And  if  we  look  yet  closer  into  the  story  of  that 
marvellous  Grecian  race,  which  we  are  especially  called 
this  day  to  consider,  let  us  never  forget  that  Christi- 
anity itself,  if  from  one  point  of  view  it  is  as  a  Hebrew 
of  the  Hebrews,  from  another  and  not  less  important 
view,  it  has  become  even  as  a  Greek  to  the  Greeks. 
The  language  of  its  sacred  books  is  not  the  tongue  of 
Sinai  or  Jerusalem,  but  of  Athens  and  Alexandria. 
Without  Plato,  without  Aristotle,  without  Alexander, 
the  whole  preparation  for  Christianity,  the  whole  devel- 
opment of  Christianity,  would  have  been  wholly  differ- 
ent from  that  which,  in  the  fulness  of  time  and  with 
these  riches  of  the  Gentile  world  poured  into  it,  it  has 
actually  become.  There  is  in  its  very  conception,  if 
one  may  so  say,  a  welcome,  a  stretching  out  of  the 
hands  to  the  sons  of  Javan  and  to  the  coasts  of  Chit- 
tim.  There  is  interwoven  with  the  very  texture  of  the 
New  Testament  a  tenderness,  a  humanity,  a  univer- 
sality, a  search  after  truth,  a  variety,  a  freedom  of  de- 
velopment, a  popularity  of  constitution,  that,  humanly 
speaking,  are  not  Hebraic,  but  Hellenic  ;  they  belong  to 
that  side  of  the  Divine  Image  which  looks  not  towards 
the  mountains  and  deserts  of  the  East,  but  towards  the 
isles  of  the  Gentiles  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
western  sea.  Even  in  that  Supreme  Exemplar,  in 
whom  there  is  in  one  sense  neither  Jew  nor  Greek,  yet 
in  whom  in  another  sense  Greek  and  Jew  each  find 

i  Matt.  xxv.  31-40  ;  vii.  21. 


186  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 

their  corresponding  elements,  there  is  an  aspect  to 
which,  amidst  a  thousand  differences  and  at  an  incom- 
mensurable interval,  there  has  yet  no  closer  parallel 
been  suggested  in  the  history  of  mankind  than  the 
highest  climax  of  the  development  of  Greece  in  the 
immortal  story  of  the  consecrated  life  and  solemn  end 
of  the  Athenian  philosopher. 

Yet  perhaps  it  is  even  more  from  the  contribution 
of  new  elements  of  life  to  the  spiritual  growth  of  man, 
that  the  Hellenic  race  claims  "the  everlasting  remem- 
brance "  of  those  who  value  the  inward  Holy  Spirit 
of  our  Christian  faith  yet  more  deeply  than  they  value 
even  the  most  sacred  and  imperishable  of  its  outward 
forms.  "  To  have  known  the  history  of  a  people  by 
whom  the  first  spark  was  set  to  the  dormant  intellec- 
tual capacities  of  our1  nature"  —  to  draw  forth  from 
the  various  forms  of  fable  or  legend,  of  strange  antique 
observance  and  rare  preternatural  beauty,  "  cunningly 
graven  in  gold  or  silver  or  stone  by  art  and  man's  de- 
vice," the  devotion  of  that  ancient  people  to  their  thou- 
sand "  unknown  gods,"  which  caused  them  to  be  consid- 
ered by  the  Apostle  as  in  all  things  "very2  religious" 
beyond  all  their  fellows  —  to  delineate  the  growth  of  that 
singular  freedom  of  discussion,  and  singular  fidelity  to 
law,  which  have  since  combined  to  make  Christendom  a 
living  reality,  and  Western  Civilization  a  possibility  — 
to  appreciate  the  various  motives  and  forces,  which, 

Through  many  a  dreary  age, 
Upbore  whate'er  of  good  and  wise 
Still  lived  in  bard  or  sage, 

and  stimulated  those  lofty  spirits  who  have  moulded  the 
policy,  the  art,  and  the  philosophy  of  all  educated  men 
in  after  times  —  to  thrill  the  spirit  of  generations  yet  to 
1  Grote's  Greece,  vol.  i.,  Preface,  p.  viii.         2  Acts  xvii.  22,  23. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY.  187 


come  by  recording  once  more  in  all  their  fulness  those 
heart-stirring  victories  of  the  few  against  the  many, 
of  light  against  darkness,  which  will  be  the  watchwords 
of  patriotism  and  of  liberty  as  long  as  the  fabric  of  the 
civilized  world  endures  —  to  inquire  in  what  intricate 
depths  of  those  early  times  "  could  wisdom  be  found,"  1 
and  where  was  the  primeval  "  place  of  understanding  " 

—  to  trace  the  rise  of  that  heaven-sent  genius  which 
was  forever  preaching  on  the  oracle,  Know  thyself,  as 
the  holiest  of  texts,  which  "  permanently  enlarged  the 
horizon,  improved  the  method,  and  multiplied  the  as- 
cendant minds  of  the  whole  speculative  world  "  forever 

—  to  have  painted  the  gloomy  side  of  that  luminous 
history,  and  seen  our  own  sins  anticipated  or  exagge- 
rated in  that  highly  wrought  society,  the  sins  of  party 
spirit  and  of  popular  superstition,  the  action  and  re- 
action of  democratic  and  despotic  violence,  the  growth 
of  dark  vices  and  of  hideous  crimes,  even  under  the 
surface  of  the  most  refined  civilization  and  by  the  side 
of  the  loftiest  aspirations  —  to  have  gathered  together 
that  vast  "  cloud  of  witnesses,"  who,  though  they  "  re- 
ceived not  our  promises,  God  having  provided  some 
better  things  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be 
made  perfect,"2  yet  have  their  memories  enshrined  on 
the  heights  of  fame,  as  trophies  which  will  not  suffer  us 
to  sleep  in  the  race  that  is  set  before  us  in  the  onward 
progress  of  humanity  towards  the  City  of  the  Living 
God  ;  —  To  have  learned  or  to  have  taught  any  of  these 
lessons  from  the  annals  of  that  dear  immortal  land, 

Where  each  old  poetic  mountain 
Inspiration  breathes  around  — 

this  is  to  have  done  something  towards  the  "  everlast- 
ing remembrance  "  of  the  Just,  the  Free,  the  Beautiful, 

i  Job  xxviii.  12.  2  Heb.  xi.  39,  40;  xii.  1,  22. 


188 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 


and  the  True  —  this  is  to  have  contributed  something 
towards  the  glorification  of  Him  whose  name  is  Justice, 
and  Loveliness,  and  Liberty,  and  Truth. 

V.  Such  an  effort,  sustained  through  almost  forty 
years  of  unremitting  toil,  marked  the  course  of  the 
aged  scholar  who  now  rests  from  his  lifelong  labors. 
For  this  end,  alike  in  early  manhood  and  in  maturer 
years,  he  steadily  forsook  and  set  aside  (so  far  as  he 
could)  all  worldly  cares  and  honors.  For  this  and  for 
the  advancement  of  kindred  pursuits,  he,  in  a  distracted 
and  luxurious  age,  lived  the  simple  and  single-minded 
life  of  an  ancient  or  academic  sage. 

And  if,  as  has  been  the  lot  of  other  eminent  histo- 
rians, he  was  himself  an  example  of  that  which  he  de- 
scribed, and  grew  like  to  that  which  he  admired,  if  we 
feel  as  though  we  were  reading  of  himself,  when  he 
portra}rs  the  Athenian  statesman,1  who  "  by  his  straight 
and  single-handed  course,  with  no  solicitude  for  party 
ties,  and  with  little  care  to  conciliate  friends  or  offend 
enemies,  and  by  manifesting  through  a  long  public  life 
an  uprightness  without  flaw,  had  beyond  all  suspicion 
earned  for  himself  the  lofty  surname  of  the  Just,"  or 
that  Spartan  chief,2  who  rose  above  his  countrymen  by 
his  "  entire  straightforwardness  of  dealing  and  his  Pan- 
hellenic  patriotism,  alike  comprehensive,  exalted,  and 
merciful ;  "  if  we  almost  fancy  that  we  see  living  again 
in  him  the  genius  of  historical  impartiality,  which  once 
seems  to  have  been  realized  amongst  men  in  the  Grecian 
Thucydides  —  then  of  him  also,  as  of  those  whom  he 
delineated,  may  those  sacred  words  be  repeated :  "  The 
just  shall  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance." 

To  be  just  was  the  inspiring  motive  and  the  control- 
ling check  of  his  whole  intellectual  life.  For  the  sake 
of  preserving  the  exact  balance  of  truth,  he  resisted 

1  Aristides  (Grote's  Greece,  iv.  459).         2  Callicratidas  (Ibid.  riii.  219). 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY.  189 


what,  to  minds  like  his,  in  an  age  like  ours,  is  an  in- 
ducement stronger  than  love,  or  honor,  or  wealth ;  he 
restrained  a  fervid  imagination,  he  sacrificed  the  graces 
of  style,  and  the  desire  of  effect ;  he  never  gave  way  to 
'•the  constantly  recurring  temptation  to  break  loose 
from  the  unseen  spell  by  which  a  conscientious  criticism 
bound  him  down."  1 

And  this  passion  for  justice,  which  was  the  soul  of 
his  work,  was  also  the  soul  of  his  character. 

They  who  knew  him  best  will  tell  us  that  of  all  the 
public  men  whom  they  had  ever  known  he  was  the  most 
unswervingly  just.  Those  who  knew  him  not,  may  be 
assured  that  whatever  honor  or  respect  he  won,  beyond 
the  region  of  his  intellectual  eminence,  was  the  tribute 
which  mankind  feel  to  be  due  to  any  manifestation  of 
that  most  Godlike  and  Christlike  grace,  the  virtue  of 
justice.  Let  those  whose  hasty,  dogmatic,  exaggerated 
statements  fall  from  their  lips  in  unceasing  flow,  with- 
out thought  for  themselves,  or  care  for  others,  remember 
(if  they  ever  heard  it)  the  slow,  deliberate  enunciation 
with  which,  even  on  seemingly  trivial  matters,  he  would 
drop  out,  syllable  by  syllable,  his  exact,  unimpassioned 
judgments,  as  though  he  feared  lest  a  single  phrase 
should  escape  him  that  was  not  absolutely  true  —  as 
though  he  had  forever  sounding  in  the  innermost  cham- 
ber of  his  conscience  the  sacred  maxim,  "  By  thy  words 
thou  shalt  be  justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be 
condemned."  Let  those  who  think  it  consistent  with 
their  station,  or  their  rank,  or  their  religion,  to  treat 
with  rudeness,  or  with  scorn,  those  from  whom  they 
differ,  those  to  whom  they  are  superior,  those  to  whom 
they  are  inferior,  remember,  if  they  ever  saw  it,  the 
gracious  urbanity,  the  antique  courtesy,  the  tender 
consideration,  with  which  he  met  the  jarring  circum- 

1  Ibid.  Preface,  p.  x. 


190  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  HISTORY. 


stances  and  characters  of  life,  as  though  he  had  ever 
before  him  the  Divine  ideal  of  Him  who,  in  the  quaint 
but  reverent  language  of  an  early  English  poet,1  has 
been  called  — 

The  First  True  Gentleman  that  ever  breathed. 

Let  those  who  think  that  enlarged  philosophy,  or 
daring  speculation,  or  eager  research,  carries  with  it,  as 
by  a  fatal  necessity,  a  fierce  and  scoffing  spirit,  a  for- 
ward speech,  an  intolerant,  insolent  temper  —  let  them 
remember,  if  they  ever  witnessed  it,  the  reverential 
abstinence,  the  modest  forbearance  of  that  firm  but 
gentle  nature  which,  alike  in  act  and  word,  was  the 
living  representation  of  the  apostolic  maxims  — M  In 
honor  preferring  others ;  condescending  to  men  of  low 
estate  ;  "  "  rendering  "  with  scrupulous  exactness  "  to 
all  their  due,  custom  to  whom  custom,  honor  to  whom 
honor."  2 

Such  an  one,  whether  he  be  of  us  or  not,  shall  surely 
be  honored  amongst  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect "  hereafter.  In  parting  with  such  an  one,  whether 
we  look  backwards  to  the  dark  shadows  of  this  mortal 
life,  or  forwards  to  "  the  Light  which  no  man  can  ap- 
proach unto,"  we  may  repeat  for  him,  and  urge  on 
others,  those  sacred  words  of  which  the  scope  is  limited 
to  no  age  or  country,  and  of  which  the  meaning  is  inex- 
haustible :  "  The  path  of  the  just  is  as  the  shining  light, 
that  shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day."3 
"  Blessed  are  they  which  do  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness,  for  they  shall  be  filled."  4  "In  memorid 
ceternd  erit  justus."  5 

1  Dekker.  2  Rom.  xii.  10,  16;  xiii.  7.  8  Prov.  iv.  18. 

*  Matt.  v.  6.  6  Ps.  cxi.  7  (cxii.  6). 


FREDERICK  DENISON  MAURICE. 


From  a  Sermon  on  Sunday  Evening,  April  7,  1872. 
Peace  be  unto  you.  —  Luke  xxiv.  36. 

There  is  a  name  which  was  given  in  the  old  Pagan 
religion  of  ancient  Rome  to  its  chief  ministers  —  the 
name  of  Pontiff ;  and  from  them  the  name  has  de- 
scended to  the  chief  ministers  of  the  Christian  religion 
in  modern  Rome.  The  name,  as  it  was  first  applied, 
meant  the  maker  of  bridges.  Why  it  was  so  used,  in  the 
first  instance,  we  now  hardly  know.  They  were,  per- 
haps, specially  employed  in  constructing  those  mighty 
instruments  of  earthly  peace  and  civilization  —  the 
great  roads  and  bridges  by  which  those  old  Romans 
tamed  and  subdued  the  world.  But  in  a  moral  and 
spiritual  sense  we  ought  all  to  be  makers  of  bridges 
still  —  Pontiff  or  no  Pontiff,  minister  or  no  minister, 
every  Christian  who  walks  in  his  Master's  steps,  but 
especially  those  who  are  Pontiffs,  those  who  do  hold  a 
high  place  in  the  Christian  hierarchy,  and  most  of  all 
those  who  by  their  noble  spiritual  gifts  have  the  power 
to  reconcile  and  bring  together  their  fellow-men. 

Churches  need  not  be  united  in  order  to  be  at  peace. 
Men  need  not  be  alike  in  order  to  be  at  peace.  Not  as 
the  world  giveth,  not  as  outward  appearance  giveth,  is 
the  peace  which  Christ  gives  to  us.  It  was  the  saying 
of  a  great  monarch  of  France,  looking  out  on  the  neigh- 
boring country  of  Spain,  "  There  are  no  more  Pyrenees." 

191 


192  FREDERICK  DEXISOX  MAURICE. 

The  power  of  the  human  will,  the  vaulting  ambition  of 
one  man,  was  —  so  he  thought  —  sufficient  to  remove 
even  this  greatest  of  natural  boundaries.  But  so,  even 
literally,  it  may  be  said  that  Faith  and  Charity  have 
power  to  remove  mountains.  Mountains  of  difficulty, 
mountains  of  misunderstanding,  may  vanish  before  the 
power  of  knowledge,  before  the  depth  of  philosophical 
analysis,  before  the  courage  which  despises  difficulties, 
before  the  insight  which  sees  into  a  heart  of  stone.  In 
those  same  Pyrenean  mountains  there  is  a  huge  cleft 
called  the  Breach  of  Roland,  because  it  was  believed  to 
be  hewn  out  by  the  magic  sword  of  that  renowned  pala- 
din on  his  passage  to  the  field  of  Roncesvalles.  Such  a 
Breach  of  Roland,  such  a  cleft  through  the  hardest 
granite  barriers  that  have  ever  parted  the  families  of 
mankind  asunder,  has  been  ere  now  cut  through  by  the 
magic  sword  of  the  paladins  of  true  philosophy,  of  true 
theology,  of  the  true  Christian  discernment  of  the  spirits 
of  men. 

Such  an  example  of  the  gift  of  peace  in  all  its  senses 
has  been  shown  forth  in  a  revered  and  saintly  teacher, 
who  on  the  early  dawn  of  Easter  Monday  was  removed 
from  this  world  of  strife  to  the  peace  which  shall  never 
be  broken.  Many  in  this  church  may  have  seen  — 
many  others,  high  and  low,  may  have  heard  of  —  the 
lifelong  labors  in  behalf  of  Christian  truth  and  Chris- 
tian love,  which  have  endeared  to  thousands  of  his 
countrymen  the  name  of  Frederick  Maurice.  In  one 
sense  it  was  a  life  not  of  peace,  but  of  constant  warfare, 
of  war  against  all  that  was  mean  and  base  and  false ; 
whenever  and  wherever  he  saw.  or  thought  he  saw.  any 
one  wronged  or  oppressed,  always  in  the  foremost 
rank ;  the  champion  of  the  fallen  cause,  of  the  for- 
gotten truth,  of  the  things  which  being  eternal  are  not 
seen,  because  they  are  hid  behind  the  things  which 


FREDERICK  DENISON  MAURICE. 


193 


being  seen  are  temporal.  It  was  a  life,  too,  not  of 
peaceful  ease,  but  of  incessant,  unwearied  toil,  a  bush 
ever  burning;  and,  as  it  burned,  consumed  with  its  own 
inextinguishable  zeal  for  God's  house  and  God's  honor, 
devouring  as  a  burning  flame  the  mind  and  the  body 
that  enclosed  it ;  bearing  every  one's  burden  and  reliev- 
ing every  one's  grief;  suffering  with  the  sufferings  of 
the  poor  and  afflicted ;  struggling  with  the  struggles 
of  the  inquiring  soul.  Who  was  weak  and  he  was  not 
weak?  Who  was  offended  and  he  burned  not?  It  was 
a  life,  too,  not  withdrawn  from  earthly  concerns,  not 
wrapt  up  in  abstruse  contemplation.  He  lived  in  the 
very  thick  of  the  stirring  influences  of  our  time.  He, 
if  any  one,  was  an  English  citizen,  even  more  than 
he  was  an  English  Churchman.  He,  whilst  clinging 
passionately,  devotedly,  to  the  ages  of  the  past,  yet 
was,  if  any  one,  full  of  all  the  thoughts  and  events  of 
our  own  momentous  century.  Not  a  wave  of  specula- 
tion in  Europe,  not  a  public  event  of  joy  or  sorrow  in 
England,  but  called  forth  a  sympathetic  or  indignant 
cry  from  that  travailing  sold.  None  of  our  time  have 
in  this  respect  so  visibly  been  as  the  ancient  prophets, 
reflecting  all  the  movements  of  the  age,  yet  themselves 
not  led  captive  by  them. 

For  this  was  the  contrast  which  makes  his  life  so 
deeply  instructive.  In  the  midst  of  all  this,  he  was  in 
all  those  senses  in  which  we  have  spoken  of  peace,  the 
most  peaceful,  the  most  pacific,  the  most  peace-making 
of  men. 

Peace  in  himself;  for,  amidst  the  strife  of  tongues 
and  the  war  of  parties,  he  remained  self-poised,  inde- 
pendent, in  a  world  above  this  world,  in  a  land  that 
was  very  far  away,  with  utterances  sometimes  obscure, 
sometimes  flashing  with  lightning  splendor,  yet  always 
speaking  from  his  own  heart  and  conscience  that  which 
there  he  had  truly  found. 


194 


FREDERICK  DENISON  MAURICE. 


Peace  for  others ;  for  he  was  ever  striving  to  make 
himself  heard  and  felt  across  the  boundaries  which  part 
us  asunder ;  a  fountain  of  fire  which  irradiated  even 
where  it  did  not  penetrate,  a  trumpet  that  awaked 
even  where  it  did  not  convince,  a  music  that  soothed 
even  where  it  was  not  understood.  In  any  sacred 
word,  whether  of  the  Bible  or  of  the  Church,  in  all 
the  great  words  of  human  speech,  he  labored,  perhaps 
too  eagerly,  to  discern  —  not  its  commonplace,  earthly, 
party  meaning,  but  its  heavenly,  ideal,  catholic  signifi- 
cance. He  has  been,  in  the  high  sense  in  which  I  used 
the  word,  a  true  Pontiff  of  the  English  Church,  a  true 
paladin  in  the  English  State.  He  has  built  bridges 
that  will  not  easily  be  broken  across  the  widest  chasms 
that  separate  class  from  class,  and  mind  from  mind. 
He  has,  with  a  more  piercing  sword  than  Roland's 
Durandel,  made  a  breach  in  the  mountain-wall  of  pre- 
judice and  ignorance  that  will  never  be  entirely  closed. 

Peace  in  God.  In  that  voice  trembling  with  emo- 
tion each  time  he  said  the  Lord's  Prayer  or  the  Apos- 
tles' Creed,  as  though  he  was  reading  them  always  for 
the  first  time,  as  though  they  came  to  him  fresh  with 
their  original  freshness,  yet  laden  with  all  the  meaning 
of  ages ;  in  those  eyes  bright  with  faith  in  the  eternal 
goodness  and  justice  of  God;  in  that  mighty  mouth, 
fixed  in  defiance  against  all  falsehood,  in  which  the 
heart  seemed  to  speak,  as  with  lips  of  its  own,  the  very 
message  which  he  was  sent  into  the  world  to  deliver  — 
the  veriest  stranger  could  see  the  "  Peace  not  as  the 
world  giveth,"  but  as  He  giveth  who  is  the  giver  of  all 
that  is  good  in  every  prayer,  in  every  creed,  in  every 
truth,  human  or  divine.  By  that  prophetic  counte- 
nance, by  that  inspiring  voice,  by  that  ennobling  pres- 
ence, the  youthful  listener  felt  that  a  mind  higher  than 
his  own  was  feeling  for  him ;  the  old  man  perceived 


FREDERICK  DENISON  MAURICE. 


195 


that  from  the  generations  that  were  to  come  there  was 
as  much  to  be  learnt  as  from  the  generations  that  were 
passed  and  gone ;  the  student  saw  the  unity  of  theology 
and  of  philosophy,  of  time  and  of  eternity ;  the  poor 
man  felt  that  there  was  one  who  was  filled  even  to 
overflowing  with  the  sense  of  the  brotherhood,  the 
community  of  all  men.  The  secret  of  all  this  (if  we 
may  venture  to  divine)  was  that  of  a  trust  absolute, 
unbroken,  yet  with  a  perfect  understanding  of  what  he 
believed,  in  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  God  and  of 
God's  dealings  with  the  whole  race  of  mankind.  The 
religions  of  the  world  were  all  to  him  manifestations, 
more  or  less  imperfect,  of  the  religion  of  Jesus  Christ. 
The  various  developments  of  the  Christian  Church 
were  all  to  him  various  provinces  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Christ.  The  threefold  name  of  the  Father,  the  Son,, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  was  not  to  him  a  dark  insoluble 
mystery,  but  a  glorious  revelation  of  the  depths  of  the 
moral  being  of  God.  Believing  in  the  truth  of  this 
revelation  as  positively  as  the  strictest  Pharisee  or 
fanatic  of  any  Jewish  or  Christian  sect,  he  could  afford 
to  be  as  reverent  as  he  was  free,  as  fearlessly  bold  as  he 
was  perfectly  humble ;  he  was  not,  he  could  not  be, 
afraid  of  any  evil  tidings,  of  any  inquiry,  of  any 
research,  for  his  heart  stood  fast,  and  believed  in  the 
eternal  God. 

Such  was  the  vision  of  Peace  which  he  presented  to 
the  world  whilst  he  lived ;  and  his  reward  even  on 
earth  has  been  that  when  his  end  came,  the  strife  that 
had  been  provoked  by  the  long  warfare  of  life,  the 
earthly  passions  which  had  cast  out  his  name  whilst  he 
was  amongst  us,  were  hushed  into  respectful  silence 
when  he  was  taken  from  us.  And  amongst  those  who 
gathered  round  his  grave,  or  who  honored  his  memory, 
were  many  who  met  but  there,  and  who  there  met  in 


196 


FREDERICK  DENT  SON  MAURICE. 


the  Peace  of  God.  For  he,  in  whom  the  ancient  faith 
in  Jesus  Christ  and  His  Gospel  could  enkindle  such  a 
bright  and  shining  light,  had  given  the  best  proof  that 
the  truth  of  that  Gospel  can  make  us  free,  that  where 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  is,  there  is  liberty. 

And  from  himself  there  came  in  those  last  hours  the 
most  touching,  the  most  impressive,  because  the  most 
characteristic,  of  all  the  utterances  that  could  have 
fallen  from  his  lips.  On  that  early  Easter  morning, 
when  the  end  drew  near,  out  of  the  extremity  of  bodily 
weakness,  out  of  the  darkness  of  death,  he  gathered 
himself  up  and  pronounced  calmly,  distinctly,  and  with 
the  slight  variation  which  was  necessary  to  include 
himself  as  well  as  others  within  its  range,  the  solemn 
benediction  with  which  the  Church  of  England  at  the 
close  of  its  most  solemn  service  gives  its  Peace  not  as 
the  world  giveth  —  the  benediction  which  had  been 
endeared  to  him  through  the  long  years  of  his  faithful 
ministrations,  every  word  of  which  was  to  him  instinct 
with  a  peculiar  life  of  its  own,  a  peculiar  reflex  of  his 
own  profoundest  feelings.  With  that  benediction  let 
me  venture  to  conclude,  in  the  humble  hope  that  some- 
thing of  his  spirit  may  breathe  upon  us  through  tins  his 
last  legacy  —  his  last  message  to  English  Christendom. 
"  The  Peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding, 
keep  our  hearts  and  minds  in  the  knowledge  and  love 
of  God  and  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord ;  and  the 
blessing  of  God  Almighty,  the  Father,  the  Son,  and 
the  Holy  Ghost,  be  amongst  us  and  remain  with  us 
always." 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


April  19,  1874,  being  the  Sunday  after  Dr.  Livingstone's  burial. 

Other  sheep  I  have,  which  are  not  of  this  fold ;  them  also  I  must 
bring,  and  they  shall  hear  my  voice;  and  there  shall  be  one  fold,  and 
one  shepherd.  — John  x.  16. 1 

If  a  visitant  from  another  planet  were  to  look  over 
the  surface  of  this  earth  ;  nay,  if  we  ourselves  cast  a 
glance  at  the  map  of  the  globe,  it  might  seem  as  if  it 
was  a  vast  system  of  impassable  barriers ;  walls  of  par- 
tition mountains  high,  reaching  to  the  clouds ;  rivers 
which  have  become  the  very  type  of  the  gulf  of  death 
itself;  oceans  with  their  illimitable,  "dissociable"  ex- 
panse of  waters  —  all  the  varieties  of  climate,  race, 
customs,  which  make  every  change  irksome,  every  step 
in  advance  a  peril.  Add  to  this  the  deeply  rooted 
instinct  of  the  human  mind,  which  binds  each  man  to 
his  family  and  his  country,  which  attaches  him  to  the 
haunts  of  his  childhood,  to  the  tombs  of  his  fathers, 
to  all  the  endearing  associations  and  ennobling  glories 
that  make  "•home"  one  of  the  most  sacred  of  human 
words,  and  patriotism  one  of  the  most  exalting  of 
human  virtues. 

Yet,  as  if  to  meet  these  natural  difficulties,  to  enlarge 

1  The  Gospel  of  the  day  from  which  this  text  was  taken  was  John 
x.  7-16,  and  the  Lessons,  which  fell  in  their  regular  course,  were  Num- 
bers xxi.,  describing  the  wanderings  of  Israel  in  the  Desert,  and  Ephe- 
sians  iii.,  describing  the  mission  of  St.  Paul  to  the  Gentile  world.  The 
16th  and  23rd  Psalms  were  chosen  especially  for  the  occasion,  as  well  as 
the  anthem  from  the  35th  chapter  of  Isaiah. 

197 


198 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


these  contracted  feelings,  there  is  a  countervailing  in- 
stinct planted  in  the  heart  of  man,  which  has  proved 
sufficient  not  only  to  surmount  all  obstacles,  but,  in 
surmounting  them,  to  give  birth  to  new  virtues ;  to  link 
the  human  race  together  by  bonds  as  much  stronger 
than  the  barriers  which  keep  them  asunder  as  spirit  is 
stronger  than  matter,  as  knowledge  is  stronger  than 
ignorance,  as  love  is  stronger  than  hatred.  "  Behind 
these  mountains  there  are  also  people  like  ourselves," 
is  the  unconscious  cry  (as  expressed  in  the  German 
proverb),  even  of  the  unreasoning  savage.  "  Other 
sheep  I  have,  which  are  not  of  this  fold,"  is  the  same 
thought,  expressed  in  the  highest  form  of  human  and 
divine  compassion.  That  instinct,  in  its  simplest  ex- 
pression, takes  the  form  of  the  world-wide  ambition  of 
the  traveller ;  in  its  loftiest  development  it  is  the  world- 
wide beneficence  of  the  missionary  and  the  philanthro- 
pist. The  result  of  this  divinely  implanted  instinct  in 
the  sphere  of  knowledge  is  written  in  the  noble  sciences 
of  Geography,  of  Comparative  Philology,  of  Ethnology  ; 
in  the  spiritual  sphere,  it  is  the  great  philosophical  and 
Christian  doctrine  of  the  unity  of  mankind,  of  the  Holy 
Universal  Church,  of  the  gathering  of  "one  flock1 
into  one  fold  under  one  shepherd." 

Let  me  in  a  few  words  trace  through  its  various  stages 
this  glorious  mission  of  the  Traveller. 

I.  First,  we  shall  speak  of  the  simple,  natural  desire 
of  exploring  new  regions,  of  visiting  famous  scenes,  of 
breathing  a  new  atmosphere,  of  traversing  new  experi- 
ences. Let  no  one  think  scorn  of  this  noble  passion. 
Well  said  the  wise  man  of  old,  "  It  is  the  glory  of  God 
to  conceal  a  thing,  but  the  honor  of  kings  is  to  search 
out  a  matter."  2    It  is"  the  glory  of  God  to  stimulate 


1  The  word  translated  "fold"  properly  means  "flock,"  in  the  last 
clause  of  John  x.  16.  2  Prov.  xxv.  2. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


199 


search  after  truth,  and  enkindle  chivalrous  enterprise 
br  "  determining  for  the  nations  their  appointed  times 
and  the  bounds  of  their  habitation."  1  It  is  the  glory 
of  kings,  and  kinglike  men,  to  discover  the  secrets  of 
Kis  Providence,  the  treasures  of  His  grace,  the  infinite 
variety  of  nature  and  of  man.  Who  is  there  that  has 
not  felt  at  times  the  glow  of  that  sacred  fire,  the  enthu- 
siasm of  that  heaven-sent  inspiration  ?  No  doubt  the 
poet  spoke  truth  when  he  sang  — 

Breathes  there  the  man  with  soul  so  dead 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

"  This  is  my  own,  my  native  land?  "  — 

Yes,  but  it  must  also  be  added,  "  Breathes  there  the 
man  with  soul  so  dead "  who  has  not  felt  a  new  life 
within  him,  when  he  has  for  the  first  time  left  his  native 
village  and  seen  the  great  cities  of  mankind ;  when  he 
has  for  the  first  time  crossed  the  silver  streak  of  sea, 
and  landed  on  the  continent  of  Europe ;  when  he  has 
for  the  first  time  mounted  the  barrier  of  the  Alps,  and 
descended  upon  the  sunny  regions  of  the  South ;  when 
he  has  for  the  first  time  passed  into  the  silent  pathways 
of  the  frozen  North,  or  the  ancient  splendors  of  the  East, 
or  the  teeming  activity  of  the  virgin  West?  Is  it  not 
true  (if  we  may  so  far  enlarge  the  saying  of  the  Emperor 
Charles  V.)  that  each  one  of  us  becomes  a  new  man 
not  only  with  every  new  language  he  acquires,  but  also 
with  every  new  land  he  traverses?  Who  can  ever  for- 
get, that  has  once  felt  it,  the  exhilarating  sense  of  his 
first  glance  at  the  eternal  snows,  or  his  experience  of 
the  boundless  liberty  of  the  desert,  or  the  sublime 
solitude  of  the  ocean? 

And  if  this  be  so  with  ordinary  travellers,  how  much 
more  in  those  nobler  spirits  in  whom  it  has  become  a 
high  vocation  to  unveil  the  mysteries  which  none  before 

i  Acts  xvii.  26. 


200  THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


have  known  ?  What  moment  is  there  of  more  thrilling 
interest  in  the  earth's  history  than  when  Columbus  saw 
the  lights  of  the  New  World,  of  which  for  years  he  had. 
dreamed  ?  What  purer  thirst  for  knowledge  than  that 
which,  on  the  lonely  Cape  of  St.  Vincent,  or  in  the 
exquisite  chapel  of  Belem  on  the  shores  of  the  Tagus, 
fired  the  Portuguese  voyagers  for  their  manifold  discov- 
eries ?  What  more  touching  proof  of  devotion  to  the 
cause  of  duty  and  science  combined  than  the  grave  of 
Franklin  and  his  gallant  companions  in  the  icy  sepul- 
chre of  the  Polar  seas? 

Even  in  this,  its  simplest  form,  the  glory  of  the  trav- 
eller is  one  of  the  glories  of  our  race  ;  nay,  we  may 
add,  one  of  the  glories  of  our  religion.  It  has  its  sanc- 
tion in  our  earliest  sacred  associations.  Who  was  the 
first  of  the  long  line  of  those  adventurous  spirits  who 
"  gat  them  out  of  their  country  and  their  kindred  and 
their  father's  house,  not  knowing  whither  they  went"?1 
It  was  Abraham,  the  Father  of  the  Faithful.  What 
was  the  education  of  the  youth  of  the  Chosen  People  ? 
It  was  a  perpetual  journey,  marching  and  countermarch- 
ing through  a  "  great  and  terrible  wilderness,"  through 
mountain  passes,  through  deep  ravines ;  their  leader  dy- 
ing in  sight  of  the  good  land  which  he  was  not  to  possess 
—  the  parable  to  every  subsequent  age  of  the  pilgrimage 
of  life,  the  wilderness  of  the  world,  the  prelude  to  the 
promised  rest.  Who  was  it  that  planned  the  first  voy- 
age of  discovery  which  brought  back  the  sandal-wood 
of  Malabar,  the  peacocks  of  Hindostan,  the  ivory  tusks 
and  the  apes  of  Africa,  the  gold  of  the  unknown  Ophir?2 
It  was  the  wise  king  the  son  of  David.  Whose  life  is 
it  that,  as  a  famous  writer  expresses  it,  is  one  vast  itin- 
erary ;  as  another  calls  it,  the  Christian  Odyssey  follow- 
ing on  the  Christian  Iliad  ;  hurrying  from  continent  to 

i  Gen.  xii.  1;  Heb.  xi.  8.  2  1  Kings  x.  22. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


201 


continent,  from  island  to  island,  "  in  shipwrecks  often, 
in  journey ings  often,  in  perils  of  rivers,  in  perils  of  rob- 
bers, in  perils  by  the  heathen,  in  perils  in  the  city,  in 
perils  in  the  wilderness,  in  perils  in  the  sea ;  in  weari- 
ness and  painfulness,  in  watchings  and  fastings,  in  hun- 
ger and  thirst,  in  cold  and 1  nakedness  "  ?  It  is  Paul 
of  Tarsus,  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentiles.  And  what  — 
if  we  may,  with  reverence,  ask  —  what  was  one  of  the 
chief  aspects  of  the  Foremost  Figure  of  all  which  our 
Sacred  Books  present?  It  is  not  of  a  recluse  hermit 
fixed  in  the  Jordan  Valley,  nor  yet  of  a  teacher  station- 
ary in  the  schools  of  Jerusalem,  with  no  thought  for 
those  beyond  the  limits  of  his  native  land.  It  is  of  One 
whose  eye  was  turned  to  "  the  many  who  should  come 
from  the  east  and  from  the  west,  from  the  north  and 
from  the  south," 2  before  whose  glance  had  once  been 
unrolled,  as  in  a  map,  "all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world."3 
It  is  of  One  who,  in  His  actual  life  on  earth,  was  con- 
stantly moving  to  and  fro,  often  not  having  where  to 
lay  His  head ;  a  hungry  and  thirsty  wayfarer  who,  from 
Galilee  to  Samaria,  from  Samaria  to  Judea,  on  the  hills 
beyond  the  Jordan,  and  on  the  coasts  of  Tyre  and  Sidon, 
on  the  snow-clad  heights  of  Hermon,  "  went  about  doing 
good."4 

Quaerens  me  sedisti  lassus ; 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus. 

Thou  in  search  of  me  didst  sit, 
Wearied  with  the  noontide  heat ; 
Oh  may  all  that  toil  and  pain 
Not  be  wholly  spent  in  vain  1 

Such  is  the  origin,  such,  at  least  in  part,  the  ancestry 
and  likeness  that  we  claim  for  the  noble  army  of  Trav- 
ellers.   And  this  leads  me  to  speak  of  the  place  which 

1  2  Cor.  xi.  25-27.      2  Luke  xiii.  29.      *  Matt.  iv.  8.      *  Acta  x.  38. 


202  THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 

they  fill,  or  may  fill,  in  the  divine  economy  of  the 
world.  I  have  already  glanced  at  the  light  which  they 
have  thrown  on  the  secrets  of  the  Universe.  No  one 
who  feels  how  sacred  a  thing  is  this  earth,  as  the  handi- 
work of  the  Creator,  as  the  expression  of  His  will,  can 
be  indifferent  to  the  holy  privilege  of  those  who  assist 
in  unveiling  any  part  of  that  handiwork,  in  revealing 
any  part  of  that  will,  to  the  eyes  of  men.  The  whole 
of  it,  if  we  believe  in  its  derivation  from  one  Supreme 
Mind,  hangs  together,  and  so  long  as  any  corner  of  its 
recesses  remains  unknown,  we  have  not  done  our  utmost 
to  learn  our  Father's  whole  mind  toward  us.  It  was 
the  generous  expression  of  a  wish,  hopeless  perhaps  to 
any  one  individual,  that  was  once  uttered  by  an  enthu- 
siastic student  of  Geography  — 11 1  should  be  miserable, 
if  I  thought  that  there  was  a  single  land  that  I  should 
never  visit,  or  a  single  language  that  I  should  never 
know."  But  what  in  the  case  of  one  man  is  impossible, 
'  is  possible  for  the  whole  race  of  men,  through  its  more 
energetic  members.  There  is  no  land  which  ought  to 
remain  unvisited,  there  is  no  language  that  ought  to  re- 
main unlearned,  if  we  really  desire  to  follow  the  true 
Vestiges  of  Creation,  the  true  Footsteps  of  the  Creator. 
"  If  we  take  the  wings  of  the  morning  and  dwell  in 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,  even  there  shall  His 
hand  lead  us,  and  His  right  hand  shall  uphold  us." 1 
But  it  is  not  only  in  the  accumulation  of  knowledge 
that  the  Traveller  discharges  a  heavenly  mission.  It 
is  also  in  bringing  together,  and  in  drawing  upwards 
towards  a  common  centre,  "  the  children  of  God  that 
are  scattered  abroad "  in  every  race  and  clime.  The 
instinct  which  inspires  the  adventurous  explorer  is,  in 
its  root,  the  same  as  that  which  inspires  the  devoted 
missionary.    It  is  the  feeling  that  Mankind  is  one  ;  it  is 

1  Ps.  cxxxix.  10. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER.  203 


the  sense  of  kindred  even  with  the  most  alien,  the  most 
perverse,  the  most  degraded  forms  of  humanity ;  it  is 
the  sense  that  in  races  most  unlike  to  ourselves  there 
are  capacities  of  improvement,  of  superiority,  of  excel- 
lence, of  which,  till  we  had  seen  them,  we  were  almost 
unconscious.  And  as  the  Traveller  by  the  nature 
of  the  case  is  almost  always  the  representative  of  a 
more  civilized  nation,  of  a  more  refined  religion  than 
those  into  whose  haunts  he  wanders,  he  becomes  almost 
perforce  a  missionary  —  a  missionary  either  for  good 
or  for  evil.  A  missionary  it  may  be  for  evil.  It  is 
unfortunately  true  that  the  liberty  of  a  traveller  has 
sometimes  been  the  mask  of  license,  that  the  indiffer- 
ence, the  profaneness,  the  self-indulgence,  of  the  Euro- 
pean are  the  only  characteristics  of  himself  which  he 
by  his  example  imparts.  Of  all  the  crimes  against  our 
common  humanity,  few  are  deeper  in  guilt  or  more 
widespreading  in  their  consequences,  than  that  of  the 
man  who  thus  coming  in  the  guise  of  an  angel  of  light 
transforms  himself  into  an  angel  of  darkness,  who 
takes  to  himself  the  vices  of  the  savage  and  gives  in 
return  the  vices  of  civilization.  But  this  is  not  the 
true  Traveller,  this  is  not  the  genuine  seeker  after 
truth,  this  is  not  the  faithful  messenger  to  "  the  other 
sheep  that  are  not  of  this  fold."  Far  oftener,  we  would 
fain  believe,  the  Traveller  rises  to  the  height  of  his 
lofty  calling,  and  awakens  to  the  new  responsibility 
which  his  new  position  lays  upon  him.  The  humblest 
wayfarer  in  the  far  East  or  the  farther  South  has  it 
in  his  power,  by  fairness,  by  kindness,  by  justice,  to 
leave  behind  him  his  stamp  on  those  who  in  him,  per- 
haps for  the  first  time  and  the  last  time,  have  the 
chance  of  knowing  what  is  meant  by  a  European,  by 
an  Englishman,  a  Christian.  The  Explorer,  even  in 
the  most  purely  scientific  pursuits,  becomes  accessible 


204  THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 

to  the  catholic  tendencies  of  pure  Religion,  to  the 
reverent  sense  of  a  watchful  Providence,  such  as  men 
in  their  ordinary  lives  can  hardly  experience.  What 
lessons  of  faith  and  wisdom  are  read  to  us  by  that 
passage  in  the  life  of  Mungo  Park,  when,  naked  and 
alone  in  the  desert,  he  was  recalled  to  hope  and  per- 
severance by  his  reflection  on  the  care  of  God,  as 
displayed  in  the  leaves  of  the  little  plant  which  he  saw 
before  him  not  bigger  than  his  finger's  end !  And 
when,  to  the  effects  of  personal  example  and  personal 
experience,  there  is  added  the  assurance  that,  through 
every  pathway  that  the  Traveller  opens,  civilization, 
commerce,  and  religion  will  follow,  and  that  thus  alone 
the  waste  places  of  the  earth  can  become  redeemed  and 
cultivated,  —  then  we  see  how,  as  if  by  an  undesigned, 
or  shall  we  not  rather  say  a  designed,  coincidence,  the 
special  obstacles  of  lands  all  but  inaccessible  are  met 
by  the  rare  faculties  of  special  men.  If  we  may  ven- 
ture to  invert  the  ancient  proverb,  "  God's  extremity 
is  man's  opportunity."  At  home,  no  doubt  Charity 
besrins.  "He  who  loveth  not  his  brother  whom  he 
hath  seen,"  how  can  he  love  the  distant  savage  whom 
he  hath  not  seen?  But,  nevertheless,  it  is  the  very 
will  and  purpose  of  our  Creator,  and  of  our  Redeemer, 
that  "  His  voice  shall  be  heard "  even  by  those  most 
remote  from  the  fold  of  our  own  religion,  from  the  fold 
of  our  own  civilization.  It  is  the  very  burden  of  the 
prophets  of  old  that  not  only  the  near,  but  the  far 
distant,  horizon,  shall  share  in  the  promised  regenera- 
tion. "  The  kings  of  Tarshish  and  Arabia,  Ethiopia 
stretching  out  her  hands  unto  God," 1  were  not,  in  the 
grand  prophetic  view  of  the  world,  out  of  mind,  be- 
cause out  of  sight.  They  occupied,  we  may  say,  the 
constant  background  of  the  picture.    It  is  in  the  far- 

1  Ps.  lxviii.  31;  lxxii.  10. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER.  205 


thest  and  most  unlikely  regions  that  the  most  signal 
triumphs  of  truth  and  goodness  were  expected  to  be 
felt.  Not  the  crowded  city  only  —  not  the  peaceful 
hamlet  only  —  but  "the  wilderness  and  the  solitary 
place  "  shall  be  glad  for  them  :  not  the  garden  and  the 
vineyard  only,  but  "  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blos- 
som as  a  rose,  and  the  parched  ground  shall  become 
a  pool,  and  the  thirsty  land  springs  of  water,  and  an 
highway  shall  be  there,  and  it  shall  be  called  the  way 
of  holiness."  1 

II.  And  now  let  us  turn  to  the  occasion  which  has 
led  to  these  thoughts. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  gracious  allotment  by  which  the 
Ruler  of  the  world  has  brought  the  inborn  sentiment  of 
curiosity  and  benevolence  in  the  more  highly  favored 
parts  of  the  earth  to  bear  on  the  darkness  and  isolation 
of  the  more  remote  and  obscure.  It  would  almost  seem 
as  if,  by  a  yet  further  distribution  of  the  same  merciful 
AVisdom,  particular  tracts  of  the  world  had  become  the 
vent,  the  sphere  for  the  energy  of  particular  nations, 
which  have  acquired  a  kind  of  special  parental  interest 
in  these  neglected  lands,  these  Foundlings,  as  it  were, 
of  the  human  family.  Such  has  been  the  singular  lot 
of  Africa.  That  vast,  impenetrable  continent  has  been, 
for  the  last  hundred  years,  the  peculiar  subject  of  the 
inquiry  and  the  philanthropy  of  England,  as  in  early 
ages  it  was  to  the  civilized  world  of  Greece  and  Rome. 
The  grand  secret  of  geography  —  the  course  of  that 
mysterious  and  beneficent  River  which  has  for  ages 
veiled  its  head,  and  provoked  the  curiosity  of  mankind 
from  Herodotus  downwards  —  has  laid  a  special  hold  on 
the  imagination  of  this  remote  island,  of  which  Hero- 
dotus hardly  dreamed.  The  forlorn  condition  of  the 
African  races  has  awakened  a  sympathy  in  English 

1  Isa.  xxxv.  7,  8. 


206  THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


hearts  which  no  Greek  or  Roman  ever  knew ;  and  this 
Abbey  teems  with  the  memorials  of  those  who  have 
labored  in  the  cause  of  the  negro  and  slave. 

Such  was  the  sphere  to  which,  in  its  double  aspect, 
was  devoted  the  life  of  him  who  has  been  adjudged  by 
competent  authority  the  greatest  African  traveller  of 
all  time. 

In  few  men  has  been  developed  in  a  stronger,  more 
persistent  form,  that  passion  which  we  just  now  ana- 
lyzed, for  penetrating  into  the  unknown  regions  of  the 
earth.  His  indomitable  resolution  has  revealed  to  us, 
for  the  first  time,  that  vast  waste  of  Central  Africa 
which,  to  the  contemplation  of  the  geographer,  has  lit- 
erally been  transformed  from  a  howling  wilderness  into 
"  the  glory  of  Lebanon."  "  The  parched  ground  "  has, 
in  his  hands,  "become  a  pool,  and  the  thirsty  land 
springs  of  water."  1  The  blank  of  "  Unexplored  Re- 
gions "  which,  in  every  earlier  map,  occupied  the  heart 
of  Africa,  is  now  disclosed  to  us,  adorned  with  those 
magnificent  forests ;  that  chain  of  lakes,  glittering  (to 
use  the  native  expression)  like  "  stars  "  in  the  desert ; 
those  falls,  more  splendid,  we  are  told,  even  than  Niag- 
ara, which  no  eye  of  civilized  man  had  before  beheld  — 
where,  above  the  far-resounding  thunder  of  the  cataract 
and  the  flying  comets  of  snow-white  foam,  and  amidst 
the  steaming  columns  of  the  ever-ascending  spray,  on 
the  bright  rainbows  arching  over  the  cloud,  the  simple 
natives  had  for  ages  seen  the  glorious  emblem  of  the 
everlasting  Deity  —  the  Unchangeable  seated  enthroned 
above  the  changeable.  To  his  untiring  exertions,  con- 
tinued down  to  the  very  last  efforts  of  exhausted  nature, 
we  owe  the  gradual  limitation  of  the  basin  within  which, 
at  last,  must  be  found  the  hidden  fountains  that  have 
lured  on  traveller  after  traveller,  and  hitherto  baffled 


1  Isa.  xxxv.  8. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


207 


them  all.  We  trust  that  those  way-worn  feet  now  rest 
not  unfitly  on  the  dust  of  Rennell,  the  most  illustrious 
of  the  founders  of  African  exploration.  We  cannot  but 
rejoice  to  think  how  the  aged1  chief  of  geographical 
science  in  our  own  day,  if  he  could  not  welcome  back 
alive,  would  have  welcomed  back  dead  to  this  his  last 
repose  the  friend  in  whose  existence  his  own  seemed  to 
be  bound  up. 

But  there  was  yet  another  feeling  —  deeper  than  the 
thirst  for  knowledge,  however  insatiable,  or  the  love  of 
adventure,  however  indomitable  —  that  drew  him  forth 
to  those  distant  wilds.  There  was  implanted  in  him,  as 
there  has  been  from  time  to  time  among  the  sons  of  men, 
not  merely  the  love  of  human  kind  at  large,  but  the  love 
for  that  particular  race  of  mankind,  which  by  color,  by 
long  oppression,  by  persistent  resistance  alike  to  the 
inroads  and  the  influence  of  civilization,  has  alternately 
repelled  and  attracted  the  more  privileged  children  of 
Shem  and  Japheth.  "My  practice,"  he  said,  "has 
always  been  to  apply  the  remedy  with  all  possible 
earnestness,  but  never  allow  my  own  mind  to  dwell 
on  the  dark  shades  of  sin's  characters.2  I  have  never 
been  able  to  draw  pictures  of  guilt  as  if  that  could 
awaken  Christian  sympathy.  The  evil  is  there.  But 
all  around  in  this  fair  creation  are  traces  of  beauty,  and 
to  turn  from  those  to  ponder  on  deeds  of  sin  cannot 
promote  a  healthy  state."  Most  noble  and  wholesome 
sentiment  —  noble  and  wholesome,  not  only  in  Africa 
but  in  Europe  —  not  only  in  heathendom  but  in  Chris- 
tendom ;  in  dealing  both  with  Christians  and  with  hea- 
thens, how  often  neglected,  and  yet  for  any  hopeful, 
energetic  action,  how  indispensable !  He  loved  to  dwell 
on  their  individual  acts  of  kindness!3    He  reiterated 

1  Six  Roderick  I.  Murchison.         2  Livingstone's  Researches,  i.  200. 
»  Ibid.  i.  500. 


208  THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


his  assurance  that  their  moral  perceptions  of  good  and 
evil  are  not  essentially  different  from  our  own.1  And 
out  of  this  sense  of  his  fellowship  with  them  as  children 
of  the  same  Heavenly  Father  and  of  the  possibility  of 
embracing  them  within  the  fold  of  the  same  Heavenly 
Shepherd,  there  rose,  as  he  wandered  on  amongst  -them, 
the  passionate  desire,  ever  mounting  to  a  higher  and 
yet  a  higher  pitch  of  burning  indignation,  of  fierce 
determination,  to  expose  and  by  exposing  to  strike  a 
fatal  blow  at  that  monster  evil,  which  by  general  testi- 
mony is  the  one  prevailing  cause  of  African  misery  and 
degradation  —  the  European  and  Asiatic  Slave-trade. 
He  grappled  with  it,  as  with  the  coils  of  a  deadly  ser- 
pent, and  it  recognized  in  him  in  turn  its  most  formida- 
ble foe.  Each  strove  to  strangle  each,  and  in  and  by 
that  struggle  he  perished ;  too  soon,  alas !  for  him  to 
know  how  nearly  he  had  succeeded  ;  not,  we  trust,  too 
soon  for  us  to  secure  that  his  success  will  be  accom- 
plished ;  and  that  the  work,  which  in  its  commencement 
and  its  continued  inspiration  was  the  brightest  side  of 
the  name  of  Wilberforce,  shall  in  its  completion  shed 
the  chief  glory  on  the  name  of  Livingstone. 

Such  he  was  as  an  Explorer,  such  as  a  Philanthro- 
pist ;  what  was  he  as  a  Missionary  ?  I  have,  in  part, 
already  answered  this  cpuestion ;  for  all  these  callings 
spring  from  the  same  root  in  human  nature,  from  the 
same  inspiration  of  the  Providence  of  God.  But  we 
should  miss  one  of  the  chief  lesions  of  the  Wanderer's 
course,  if  we  did  not  in  a  few  words  indicate  his  pecul- 
iar place  in  the  glorious  company  of  those  who  have 
devoted  their  lives  to  the  spread  of  the  Christian  faith. 
It  was  a  peculiar  place.  He  was  a  missionary,  not  only 
as  ordained  for  that  work  by  the  hands  of  a  small  group 
of  faithful  ministers,  some  of  whom  yet  live  to  see  how 

i  Ibid.  i.  158;  ii.  277-301. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER.  209 


he  followed  out  the  charge  which  they  intrusted  to  him, 
but  as  fashioned  for  the  work  by  special  gifts  of  the 
Creator.  Preacher  he  was  not,  teacher  he  was  not ;  his 
was  not  the  eloquence  of  tongue  or  pen.  His  calling 
was  different  from  this,  and  by  that  difference  singu- 
larly instructive.  He  brought  with  him  to  his  task  an 
absolute  conviction,  not  only,  as  I  have  said,  of  the 
common  elements  of  humanity  shared  alike  by  heathen 
and  Christian,  but  of  the  common  elements  of  Chris- 
tianity shared  by  all  Christians.  Himself  born  and 
bred  in  one  of  the  seceding  communions  of  Scotland, 
allied  by  the  nearest  domestic  ties,  and  by  his  own  mis- 
sionary vocation,  to  one  of  the  chief  Nonconformist 
Churches  of  England,  he  yet  held  himself  free  to  join 
heart  and  soul  with  all  others.  For  the  venerable 
Established  Church  of  his  native  land,  for  the  ancient 
Church  and  Liturgy  of  this  country,  with  one  of  whose 
bishops  he  labored,  as  with  a  brother,  through  good 
report  and  evil ;  even  for  the  Roman  Church  of  Portu- 
gal, and  the  disciples  of  Loyola,1  from  whom  in  theo- 
logical sentiment  he  was  the  furthest  removed,  he  had 
his  good  word  of  commendation.  If  he  freely  blamed, 
he  also  as  freely  praised.  He  remained  faithful  to  the 
generous  motto  of  the  Society  which  sent  him  forth. 
" I  never,"  he  said  —  strange  and  rare  confession  —  "I 
never  as  a  missionary  felt  myself  to  be  either  Presby- 
terian, Episcopalian,  or  Independent,  or  called  upon  in 
any  way  to  love  one  denomination  less  than  another."  2 
Followed  to  his  grave  by  the  leading  Nonconformists  of 
England  and  the  stanchest  Presbyterians  of  Scotland, 
yet  we  feel  that  all  the  Churches  may  claim  him  as  their 
own ;  that  all  English-speaking  races  may  regard  him 
as  their  son ;  not  only  those  who  nurtured  his  childhood 

1  Livingstone's  Researches,  i.  3,  393,  396,  453,  410,  Gil,  C76. 

2  Ibid.  i.  6,  118. 


210 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


and  his  }-outh,  but  those  who  beyond  the  Atlantic  strove, 
in  his  later  days,  with  characteristic  energy  and  with 
marvellous  success,  to  search  out  the  clew  of  his  wan- 
derings, and  to  bring  back  the  latest  assurance  of  his 
lost  existence. 

Yet,  further,  he  was  penetrated,  as  years  rolled  on, 
through  and  through  and  more  and  more  with  the  sense 
that  the  work  of  a  missionary  is  confined  to  no  order 
or  profession  of  men.  As  even  from  his  early  youth  he 
steadily  refused  to  recognize  the  opposition  between 
religion  and  science,1  so  in  his  later  years  he  hailed  the 
evangelization  effected  by  the  trader,  the  traveller,  and 
the  legislator,  no  less  than  that  effected  by  the  professed 
evangelist.  When,  in  one  of  his  latest  utterances,  he 
expressed  with  enthusiastic  gratitude  his  conviction 
that  "  Statesmen  are  the  best  of  missionaries,"  he  taught 
a  truth  which  all  Churches,  and  all  societies,  not  least 
in  our  day,  may  well  ponder  and  plead.  But  the  most 
powerful  missionary  agency,  as  proclaimed  both  by  his 
teaching  and  his  example,  is  that  of  individual  charac- 
ter. Most  impressive  in  itself,  and  in  its  transparent 
simplicity,  is  that  testimony  which  he  rendered  years 
ago.  "  No  one  ever  gains  much  influence  in  Africa 
without  purity  and  uprightness.  The  acts  of  a  stranger 
are  keenly  scrutinized,  b)r  both  old  and  young.  I  have 
heard  women  speaking  in  admiration  of  a  white  man 
because  he  was  pure,  and  never  was  guilty  of  secret 
immorality.  Had  he  been,  they  would  have  known  it, 
and,  untutored  heathen  though  they  be,  would  have 
despised  him  everywhere."2 

When  he  first  came  among  them,  he  was  reverenced 
as  a  man  born  in  the  depths  of  the  sea ;  clothed  with 
a  lion's  mane,  controlling  the  rains  of  heaven.  But, 
after  he  had  long  dwelt  among  them,  he  was  reverenced 

1  Livingstone's  ResearclviS,  i.  4,  5.         2  Ibid.  i.  513,  553;  ii.  195. 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


211 


on  far  higher  grounds.  They  then  learned  to  appreci- 
ate the  true  above  the  false  supernatural ;  he  was  loved 
and  feared,  not  as  a  magician  or  a  spectre,  but  as  a  just 
and  kind  benefactor,  before  whose  strong  will  they 
bowed,  and  by  whose  faithful  affection  they  were  sub- 
dued. And  when,  in  after  times,  the  passing  stranger 
shall  look  on  his  grave  in  this  church,  and  shall  be  told 
that  it  contains  the  bones  of  a  wayfaring  man  who  per- 
ished in  the  remote  wilds  of  Africa,  that  grave  itself 
will  be  felt  to  be  the  most  enduring  monument  of  his 
greatness,  because  the  very  fact  of  his  burial  here,  in 
the  heart  of  England,  is,  as  it  were,  the  footmark  and 
finger-print  of  the  plighted  faith  and  awe-struck  venera- 
tion which  inspired  the  reverent  care  alike  of  heathen, 
Mussulman,  and  Christian  around  the  solitary  death- 
bed ;  because  it  shows,  by  the  most  indisputable  tokens, 
the  devotion  which  must  have  sustained  that  small  band 
of  African  youths  in  their  arduous  enterprise  of  carry- 
ing, through  six  long  months,  in  spite  of  all  the  obsta- 
cles of  climate,  all  the  inborn  prejudices  of  ancient 
superstition,  all  the  machinations  of  hostile  tribes,  the 
last  relics  of  their  departed  master. 

III.  And  now  one  word  in  conclusion.  Those  Afri- 
can boys  have  done  their  duty.  What  is  ours?  We 
are  told  that  the  last  words  of  the  mighty  traveller  in 
his  lonely  hut  were,  "  I  am  going  home."  Home  in 
both  senses  —  his  spirit  to  the  home  of  his  Father  which 
is  in  Heaven,  his  mortal  remains,  they  doubtless  felt, 
to  the  home  of  his  fathers  in  the  land  of  the  distant 
north.  He  is  come  home  to  us.  Cosmopolitan,  catho- 
lic, almost  African  as  he  had  become,  yet  let  us  not 
forget  that  he  was  bone  of  our  bone  and  flesh  of  our 
flesh.  He  never  forgot  his  Scottish  birthplace,  or  his 
English  friends.  As  his  predecessor,  Mungo  Park,  be- 
guiled the  solitary  night  of  travel  by  repeating  the  dear 


212 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER. 


lays  of  the  Border  minstrelsy,  so  David  Livingstone 
delighted  to  see  in  the  strange  scenes  of  Central  Africa 
an  enlarged  likeness  of  the  vale  of  his  native  Clyde, 
a  reminiscence  of  the  Campsie  Hills,  and  of  Arthur's 
Seat.  He  was  one  of  us ;  he  was,  if  there  be  amongst 
my  hearers  artisans  or  craftsmen  from  the  loom  or  the 
factory,  he  was  especially  one  of  you.  Like  Tompion 
and  Graham,  like  Telford  and  Stephenson,  by  whose 
side  he  now  lies,  he  was  the  builder  of  his  own  fame 
and  of  his  own  character.  What  he  was  and  what  he 
became,  that,  by  God's  grace  and  your  own  stout  hearts, 
you  may  be  and  you  may  become.  What  boy  is  there 
that  may  not  be  inspired  by  the  example  of  that  vigilant 
industry  by  which  in  his  youthful  days,  amidst  the  roar 
of  machinery,  he  picked  up  sentence  after  sentence  from 
the  book  which  his  spinning-jenny  was  made  to  sup- 
port? What  man  is  there  that  may  not  be  at  once 
humbled  and  encouraged  by  the  record  of  that  patient, 
almost  painful  perseverance,  with  which  in  declining 
years,  counting  the  obstacles  of  time  and  space  for 
nothing,  he  toiled,  through  ceaseless  hardship,  through 
ever-multiplying  infirmities  of  body  and  mind,  with  the 
sickening  sense  of  loneliness,  desertion,  and  disappoint- 
ment, towards  the  attainment  of  the  work  which  he 
had  set  himself  to  do,  or  die  ?  Who  is  there  that  may 
not  be  nerved  to  the  performance  of  duties,  high  or  low, 
by  the  sight  of  the  life-long  comment  on  that  homely 
maxim  treasured  up  by  him  as  the  family  legacy  of  his 
rustic  ancestor — "  Be  honest;"  or  those  other  words 
addressed  to  him  from  the  death-bed  of  a  poor  Scottish 
peasant  —  "  Now,  lad,  make  religion  the  every-day  busi- 
ness of  your  life,  not  a  thing  of  fits  and  starts ;  for  if 
you  do  not,  temptation  and  other  things  will  get  the 
better  of  you." 

English  lads  of  every  degree,  remember  that  such  a 


THE  MISSION  OF  THE  TRAVELLER.  213 

one  as  yourselves  has  achieved  this  famous  career  — 
has  won  this  memorable  name.  "  Strengthen  the  weak 
hands  ;  confirm  the  feeble  knees.  Be  strong  ;  fear  not.1' 1 
Such  deeds  as  these  are  the  Alpine  summits  and  passes 
of  life  ;  these  are  the  safety-valves  even  of  our  insular 
eccentricities.  And  when  we  consider  the  ends  for 
which  his  life  was  given  —  the  advancement  of  knowl- 
edge to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  the  redemption 
of  a  whole  continent  and  race  of  mankind  from  the 
curse  of  barbarism  and  heathenism,  and  from  the  curse 
of  the  wickedness  of  civilized  men  more  hateful  than 
any  savagery  or  idolatry,  then  from  his  grave  there 
arise  not  only  to  us  as  individuals,  but  to  our  whole 
nation  —  I  will  even  say  to  all  the  nations  of  the  civil- 
ized world  —  the  last  prophetic  words  which,  in  the 
fulness  of  his  vigor,  he  addressed  to  that  English  Uni- 
versity which  paid  special  honor  to  his  labor:  "I  know 
that  in  a  few  years  I  shall  be  cut  off  in  that  country 
which  is  now  open ;  do  not  let  it  be  shut  again.  I  go 
back  to  Africa  to  make  an  open  path  for  commerce  and 
Christianity.  Do  you  carry  out  the  work  that  I  have 
begun.  I  leave  it  for  you."  He  leaves  it  for  you, 
statesmen  and  merchants,  explorers  and  missionaries, 
to  work  out  the  wise  fulfilment  of  these  designs.  He 
leaves  it  to  you,  adventurous  spirits  of  the  rising  gener- 
ation, to  spend  your  energies  in  enterprises  as  noble  as 
his ;  not  less  noble  because  they  were  useful ;  not  less 
chivalrous  and  courageous  because  they  were  under- 
taken for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good  of  man. 

1  Isa.  xxxv.  3,  4. 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


January  31,  1875. 

Watch  ye ;  stand  fast  in  the  faith ;  quit  you  like  men,  .  .  .  be 
strong.  —  1  Corinthiaxs  xvi.  13. 

It  was  once  remarked  to  me  by  a  venerable  and 
saintly  person,  the  late  Thomas  Erskine,  of  Linlathen, 
that  one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of  the 
Psalms  was  their  free,  unrestrained  appreciation  of 
what  we  call  nature,  whether  in  the  moral  or  the  physi- 
cal world ;  that  they  begin  with  commending  the  hon- 
est, upright  man,  "  the  noblest  work  of  God,"  and  they 
end  by  calling  on  every  creature,  animate  or  inanimate, 
to  praise  the  Eternal.  This  sympathy  with  the  natural 
man  and  the  natural  creation  is  the  more  remarkable  in 
the  Psalter,  because,  of  all  the  sacred  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  it  is  the  one  which  is  confessedly  the  most 
spiritual,  the  most  intimate  in  its  communion  with  the 
Divine.  And  we  learn  from  this,  as  from  many  like 
characteristics  of  the  Bible,  that  the  modern  distinction 
drawn,  from  the  Middle  Ages  downward,  between  nature 
and  grace,  between  the  secular  and  the  spiritual,  between 
the  Church  and  the  world,  however  difficult  it  may  be 
altogether  to  avoid  such  phrases,  is  not  an  essential  part 
of  the  Christian  religion,  and  in  no  way  corresponds  to 
the  opposition  drawn  in  the  Scriptures  between  the 
flesh  and  the  spirit,  between  the  hcly  and  the  unholy  — 
is  the  product  of  an  artificial  condition,  whether  of 

214 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


215 


barbarous  or  civilized  society,  which  has  stunted  rather 
than  forwarded  the  upward  growth  of  the  spirit  of  man 
towards  its  Divine  original.  To  these  artificial  separa- 
tions the  mass  of  mankind  readily  accommodate  them- 
selves ;  it  is  more  easy  for  the  worldly  to  be  entirely 
worldly,  and  for  the  religious  to  be  exclusively  religious, 
each  in  the  isolated  mediocrity,  whether  we  call  it  golden 
or  leaden,  which  tends  to  produce  a  false  standard  of 
religion  and  a  low  estimate  of  the  sphere  in  which  our 
duties  are  cast.  But  it  is  for  this  reason  that  we  ought 
to  prize  as  among  God's  best  gifts  any  characters,  any 
phenomena,  that  break  through  this  commonplace  level, 
like  mountain  crags',  and  countersect  and  unite  the 
ordinary  divisions  of  mankind,  or,  like  volcanoes,  burst 
forth  at  times,  and  reveal  to  us  something  of  the  cen- 
tral fires  within  and  underneath  the  crust  of  custom, 
fashion,  and  tradition.  Such  are  those  whom  we  some- 
times see,  who  appear  to  cynical  critics  or  to  supersti- 
tious formalists  to  have  chosen  a  position  in  life  appar- 
ently alien  to  the  bent  of  their  inclinations  or  their 
antecedents  —  a  religious  man,  for  example,  becoming  a 
lawyer  or  a  statesman ;  a  bold,  gallant  youth,  born  to 
be  a  sailor  or  a  soldier,  and  led  by  circumstances  into 
the  career  of  a  clergyman.  Such,  also,  are  those  in 
whom  the  inborn  flame  of  genius  illuminates,  or,  per- 
haps, shatters  the  earthly  vessel  which  contains  it,  and, 
despite  of  all  surrounding  obstacles,  claims  affinity  with 
kindred  sparks  of  light  and  warmth,  wherever  they 
exist. 

We  all  know  what  and  who  it  is  that  suggests  these 
thoughts.  In  that  multiplied  shadow  of  sorrow  and 
death  which  has  for  the  last  few  months  and  weeks 
enlarged  its  borders  be}rond  usual  precedent  throughout 
the  land,  one  brilliant  light  which  shone  in  our  dim 
atmosphere  has  been  suddenly  extinguished:  and  we 


216 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


cannot  allow  it  thus  to  pass  away  without  asking  our- 
selves what  we  have  gained  by  its  brief  presence 
amongst  us,  what  we  have  lost  by  its  disappearance. 
Others  have  spoken,  and  will  long  speak,  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic,  of  the  literary  fame  of  the  gifted  poet 
whose  dust  might  well  have  been  mingled  with  the  dust 
of  his  brother  poets  within  these  walls.  .  Others  will 
speak,  in  nearer  circles,  of  the  close  affection  which 
bound  the  pastor  to  his  flock,  and  the  friend  to  his 
friends,  and  the  father  to  the  children,  and  the  husband 
to  the  wife,  in  that  romantic  home  which  is  now  forever 
identified  with  his  name,  and  beside  which  he  rests, 
beneath  the  yews  which  he  planted  with  his  own  hands, 
and  the  giant  fir  trees  that  fold  their  protecting  arms 
above.  But  that  which  alone  is  fitting  to  urge  from 
this  place  is  the  moral  and  religious  significance  of  the 
remarkable  career  which  has  left  a  spot  void,  as  if  where 
a  rare  plant  has  grown,  which  no  art  can  reproduce,  but 
of  which  the  peculiar  fragrance  still  lingers  with  those 
who  have  ever  come  within  its  reach.  To  the  vast  con- 
gregations which  hung  upon  his  lips  in  this  church,  to 
the  wide  world  which  looked  eagerly  for  the  utterances 
that  no  more  will  come  from  that  burning  spirit,  to  the 
loving  friends  who  mourn  for  the  sudden  extinction  of 
a  heart  of  fire,  for  the  sudden  relaxation  of  the  grasp 
of  a  hand  of  iron  —  I  would  fain  recall  some  of  those 
higher  strains  which,  amidst  manifold  imperfections, 
acknowledged  by  none  more  freely  than  by  himself, 
placed  him  unquestionably  amongst  the  conspicuous 
teachers  of  his  age,  and  gave  to  his  voice  the  power  of 
reaching  souls  to  which  other  preachers  and  teachers 
addressed  themselves  in  vain. 

It  has  seemed  to  me  that  there  were  three  main 
lessons  of  his  character  and  career,  which  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  three  parts  of  the  Apostolic  farewell, 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


217 


which  I  have  chosen  for  my  text  —  "Watch  ye;  quit 
you  like  men,  and  be  strong ;  stand  fast  in  the  faith." 

1.  Watch  —  that  is,  "be  awake,  be  wakeful ;  "  have 
your  eyes  open,  the  eyes  of  your  senses,  tbe  eyes  of 
your  mind,  the  eyes  of  your  conscience. 

Such  was  the  wakefulness,  such  the  vigilance,  such 
the  devouring  curiosity  of  him  whose  life  and  conversa- 
tion, as  he  walked  amongst  ordinary  men,  was  often  as 
of  a  waker  amongst  drowsy  sleepers,  as  a  watchful  sen- 
tinel in  advance  of  a  slumbering  host.  The  diversity 
of  human  character,  the  tragedies  of  human  life,  were 
always  as  to  him  an  ever  opening,  unfolding  book. 
But  perhaps  even  more  than  to  the  glories  and  the  won- 
ders of  man,  he  was  —  far  beyond  what  falls  to  the  lot 
of  most  —  alive  and  awake  in  every  pore  to  the  beauty, 
the  marvels  of  nature.  That  contrast  in  the  old  story 
of  "  Eyes  "  and  "  No  Eyes,"  was  the  contrast  between 
him  and  common  men.  That  eagle  eye  seemed  to  dis- 
cern every  shade  and  form  of  animal  and  vegetable  life. 
That  listening  ear,  like  that  of  the  hero  in  the  fairy 
tale,  seemed  almost  to  catch  the  growing  of  the  grass 
and  the  opening  of  the  shell.  Nature  to  him  was  a 
companion,  speaking  with  a  thousand  voices.  And 
nature  was  to  him  also  the  voice  of  God,  the  face  of  the 
Eternal  and  Invisible,  as  it  can  only  be  to  those  who 
study  and  love  and  know  it.  For  his  was  no  idle 
dreamer's  pleasure ;  it  was  a  wakefulness  not  only  to 
the  force  and  beauty  of  the  outward  world,  but  to  the 
causes  of  its  mysterious  operations,  to  the  explanations 
given  by  its  patient  students  and  explorers.  Rarely,  if 
ever,  did  he  join  in  the  headlong  condemnation  — 
never  in  the  cowardly  fear  —  of  science  and  scientific 
men.  They  seemed  to  be  fellow-workers,  and  he  with 
them.  From  this  noble  confidence  in  the  results  of 
physical  research  take  comfort,  O  ye  of  little  faith; 


218 


CHARLES  KINGSLET. 


open  wide  your  eyes  and  ears  to  every  breathing  of 
the  Divine  Spirit,  to  every  accent  of  the  Divine  Truth. 
To  you.  as  to  him,  let  every  thing  that  hath  breath 
praise  the  Eternal  God.  Cliildren  gathering  shells  on 
the  sea-shore,  fishermen  by  chalk  streams,  huntsmen  on 
the  bright  days  of  autumn  and  of  winter,  watchers 
of  the  secret  growth  of  plant  and  insect,  and  penetrat- 
ing stream  and  shifting  soil  —  fear  not  to  learn  and  to 
teach  those  lessons  of  holy  and  innocent  enjoyment 
which  awakened  in  him  the  constant  praise  of  the  Eter- 
nal Cause,  "  for  His  name  only  is  excellent,  and  His 
power  above  heaven  and  earth." 

When  he  spoke  in  his  sermons  of  the  "  cedars  of  God," 
or,  "  of  the  lions  roaring  after  their  meat  from  God  "  — 
when  he  spoke  in  his  romance  of  the  tropical  skies  and 
forests,  which  "  at  last "  he  saw  with  the  bodily  eye, 
long  after  he  had  described  them  with  the  imagination 
of  the  poet  —  who  does  not  feel  that  the  contemplation 
of  those  wonderful  works  of  God  became,  as  it  were, 
part  of  the  framework  and  groundwork  of  his  religion, 
and  may,  in  a  measure,  become  part  of  ours  also? 

Who  that  has  heard  him  speak  of  the  Benedicite,  the 
Song  of  the  Three  Children,  can  hear  it  again  without 
feeling  in  it  that  sanctification  of  science  which  drew 
from  him  such  reiterated  cries  of  admiration,  regarding 
it  as  he  did,  apocryphal  though  it  be,  as  the  very  crown 
and  flower  of  the  Old  Testament  —  the  invocation  of 
Nature  to  bear  witness  against  the  idolatry  of  nature  ? 
—  "  O  ye  works  of  the  Lord,  bless  ye  the  Lord :  praise 
Him  and  magnify  Him  forever." 

Who,  again,  can  fail  to  derive  a  sense  of  grim  conso- 
lation —  nay,  more,  of  Christian  philosophy  —  as  he 
encounters,  even  in  the  bitter,  biting  blast  of  our  sharp 
English  winter,  or  yet  sharper  spring,  that  moral  lesson, 
that  living  sermon,  breathed  into  it  by  those  exulting 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


219 


lines  which  will  hardly  grow  old  as  long  as  the  east 
wind  blows  and  the  English  nation  lasts?  — 

Welcome,  black  North-easter, 

O'er  the  German  foam  — 
O'er  the  Danish  moorlands, 

From  thy  frozen  home  1 


Come,  as  came  our  fathers, 

Heralded  by  thee, 
Conquering,  from  the  eastward, 

Lords  by  land  and  sea ; 
Come,  and  strong  within  us 

Stir  the  Vikings'  blood, 
Bracing  brain  and  sinew  — 

Blow,  thou  wind  of  God  I 

2.  This  leads  me  to  the  second  part  of  the  Apostolic 
maxim  —  "Quit  you  like  men,  and  be  strong,"  'Avbpi^gdB 
xal  xpuraiovgde.  Surely,  if  there  was  any  one  of  our  time 
with  whom  this  precept  was  associated,  even  to  exag- 
geration, it  was  with  him  who  is  gone.  That  famous 
phrase  which  he  indeed  repudiated  for  himself,  but  which 
became  inextricably  attached  to  his  name,  was  but  the 
Apostle's  word  in  modern  form.  No  doubt  the  Bible 
overflows  with  sympathy  for  the  sorrowful,  the  suffer- 
ing, the  feeble ;  but  it  is  also  full  of  heart-stirring 
commands  "to  play  the  man,"  "to  be  men  in  under- 
standing," "to  quit  us  like  men,"  and  "be  strong  and 
very  courageous."  Christianity,  if  it  is  to  hold  its  own 
and  be  what  it  claims  to  be,  must  be  not  only  gentle, 
feminine,  and  sweet,  but  masculine,  muscular,  and 
strong.  But,  in  fact,  the  two  sides  thus  represented 
in  the  Bible,  and  certainly  as  exemplified  in  him,  were 
not  inconsistent ;  rather  in  their  best  form  they  are 
inseparable.  No  one  was  more  chivalrously  respectful 
towards  women,  more  tender  to  the  weak  and  suffering. 
Of  all  his  songs,  of  all  his  utterances,  that  which  will 


220 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


live  the  longest  in  the  months  of  men  is  that  which  is 
full,  not  of  the  fierce  spirit  of  the  Sea-kings,  but  of  the 
wailing  and  weeping  cry  of  simple  human  pathos  — 

O  Mary,  go  and  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
And  call  the  cattle  home, 
Across  the  sands  of  Dee. 

Even  in  his  rude  conflict  with  the  superstitions  of 
mediaeval  times  half  his  force  was  derived  from  his 
kindly  appreciation  of  their  nobler  side.  The  "  Saint's 
Tragedy  "  would  have  been  to  him  no  tragedy  had  he 
not  fully  recognized  that  Elizabeth  of  Thuringia  was 
indeed  a  true  Christian  saint.  And  this  gave  yet  more 
strength  to  the  determined  stand  which  he  made,  in 
what  he  deemed  an  effeminate  age,  for  the  vigorous, 
courageous,  straight-forward  aspect  of  true  religion  — 
the  sense  that  justice  and  truth  and  courage  were  as 
essentially  saint-like  as  tenderness,  beneficence,  and 
devotion. 

It  was  this  which  in  his  earlier  life  roused  his  chival- 
rous defence  of  those  whom,  perhaps  in  excess,  he 
thought  oppressed  and  neglected.  It  was  this  which 
in  his  later  life  roused  his  chivalrous  defence  of  those 
whom,  also  perhaps  in  excess,  he  regarded  as  sacrificed 
to  popular  prejudice.  It  was  this  profound  feeling 
of  the  rights  of  the  poor  and  the  duties  of  the  rich 
that  kindled  the  fiery  pages  of  "  Alton  Locke "  and 
of  "Yeast." 

It  was  this  just  impatience  of  a  sickly  sentimental 
theology  which  denounced  alike  the  monk  of  the  13th 
century  and  the  fanatical  preacher  of  the  19th.  It  was 
this  moral  enthusiasm  which,  in  the  pages  of  "  Hypa- 
tia,"  has  scathed  with  an  everlasting  brand  the  name 
of  the  Alexandrian  Cyril  and  his  followers,  for  their 
outrages  on  humanity  and  morality  in  the  name  of  a 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


221 


hollow  Christianity  and  a  spurious  orthodoxy.  Read, 
if  you  would  learn  some  of  the  most  impressive  lessons 
of  ecclesiastical  history  —  read  and  inwardly  digest 
those  pages,  perhaps  the  most  powerful  that  he  ever 
wrote,  which  close  that  wonderful  story  by  discrimi- 
nating the  destinies  which  awaited  each  of  its  charac- 
ters as  they  passed,  one  after  another,  "  each  to  his  own 
place." 

It  was  this  righteous  indignation  against  what  seemed 
to  him  the  glorification  of  a  tortuous  and  ambiguous 
policy,  which  betrayed  him  into  the  only  personal  con- 
troversy in  which  he  was  ever  entangled ;  and  in  which, 
matched  in  unequal  conflict  with  the  most  subtle  and 
dexterous  controversialist  of  modern  times,  it  is  not  sur- 
prising that  for  the  moment  he  was  apparently  worsted, 
•  whatever  we  may  think  of  the  ultimate  issues  that  were 
raised  in  the  struggle,  and  whatever  may  be  the  total 
results  of  our  experiences,  before  and  after,  on  the 
main  question  over  which  the  combat  was  fought  —  on 
the  relation  of  the  human  conscience  to  Truth  or  to 
authority. 

It  was  this  passion  for  gallant  deeds  and  adventurous 
daring  that  created  the  characters  of  Lancelot  and 
Thurnall  and  Amyas  Leigh,  that  revived  the  heroes  of 
Greece  for  the  young,  and  the  heroes  of  the  Elizabethan 
age  for  the  old. 

And  it  was  this  sense  that  he  was  a  thorough  English- 
man, one  of  yourselves,  working,  toiling,  feeling  with 
you  and  like  you  —  that  endeared  him  to  you,  O  arti- 
sans and  workingmen  of  London,  to  you,  O  rising  youth 
of  England.  You  know  how  he  desired  with  a  passion- 
ate desire  that  you  should  have  pure  air,  pure  water, 
habitable  dwellings ;  that  you  should  be  able  to  share 
the  courtesies,  the  refinements,  the  elevation  of  citizens 
and  of  Englishmen ;  and  you  may  therefore  trust  him 


222 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


the  more  when  he  told  you  from  the  pulpit,  and  still 
tells  you  from  the  grave,  that  your  homes  and  your 
lives  should  be  no  less  full  of  moral  purity  and  light, 
that  vice  and  idleness,  meanness  and  dishonesty,  are 
base,  contemptible,  and  miserable.  It  is  for  this  that  he 
speaks  to  you  with  especial  force,  you  whom  he  would 
have  called  the  sons  of  Esau  —  the  frank,  the  generous, 
the  self-forgetful ;  and  bids  you  rise  to  higher  spiritual 
spheres.  It  is  for  this,  also,  that  the  religious  world, 
the  orthodox  world,  the  sons  of  the  believing  but  yet 
timid,  wily  Jacob,  ought  to  feel  that  in  his  presence 
they  had  the  best,  because  the  most  severe,  of  monitors, 
that  in  his  departure  they  have  lost  the  most  faithful 
of  friends  because  the  severest  of  critics. 

Quit  you  like  men,  and  be  strong  —  strong  against 
your  vices  as  well  as  your  weaknesses,  strong  in  body 
and  strong  in  understanding,  strong  in  spirit. 

As  he  lay,  the  other  day,  cold  in  death,  like  the  stone 
effigy  of  an  ancient  warrior,  the  "  fitful  fever  "  of  life 
gone,  the  strength  of  immortality  left,  resting  as  if  after 
the  toils  of  a  hundred  battles,  this  was  himself  idealized. 
From  those  mute  lips  there  seemed  to  issue  once  more 
the  living  words  which  he  spoke  ten  years  ago,  before 
one  who  honored  him  with  an  unswerving  faithfulness 
even  to  the  end.  "  Some  say  "  —  thus  he  spoke  in  the 
chapel  of  Windsor  Castle  —  "  some  say  that  the  age  of 
chivalry  is  past,  that  the  spirit  of  romance  is  dead. 
The  age  of  chivalry  is  never  past,  so  long  as  there  is  a 
wrong  left  unredressed  on  earth,  or  a  man  or  woman 
left  to  say,  I  will  redress  that  wrong,  or  spend  my  life 
in  the  attempt.  The  age  of  chivalry  is  never  past,  so 
long  as  we  have  faith  enough  to  say,  God  will  help  me 
to  redress  that  wrong,  or  if  not  me,  He  will  help  those 
that  come  after  me,  for  His  eternal  Will  is  to  overcome 
evil  with  good.    The  spirit  of  romance  will  never  die, 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


223 


as  long  as  there  is  a  man  left  to  see  that  the  world 
might  and  can  be  better,  happier,  wiser,  fairer  in  all 
things  than  it  is  now.  The  spirit  of  romance  will 
never  die,  as  long  as  a  man  has  faith  in  God  to  believe 
that  the  world  will  eventually  be  better  and  fairer  than 
it  is  now ;  as  long  as  we  have  faith,  however  weak,  to 
believe  in  the  romance  of  all  romances,  the  wonder  of 
all  wonders,  in  that  wonder  of  which  poets  have 
dreamed,  and  prophets  and  Apostles  have  told,  each 
according  to  his  light  —  that  the  earth  shall  be  filled 
with  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord,  that  nation  shall  no 
more  rise  in  war  against  nation  —  that  wonder  which 
our  Lord  Himself  bade  us  pray  for,  as  for  our  daily 
bread,  and  say,  Father,  Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will 
be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven." 

3.  And  this  leads  me  to  that  clause  in  the  Apostle's 
warning  which  I  have  kept  for  the  last  —  "Standfast 
in  the  faith."  I  have  hitherto  spoken  of  our  lost  friend 
in  his  natural,  God-given  genius,  not  in  his  professional 
or  pastoral  functions.  He  was  what  he  was,  not  by 
virtue  of  his  office,  but  by  virtue  of  what  God  had 
made  him  in  himself.  He  was,  we  might  almost  say,  a 
layman  in  the  guise  or  disguise,  and  sometimes  hardly 
in  the  guise,  of  a  clergyman  —  fishing  with  the  fisher- 
men, hunting  with  the  huntsmen,  able  to  hold  his  own 
in  tent  and  camp,  with  courtier  or  with  soldier ;  an 
example  that  a  genial  companion  may  be  a  Christian 
gentleman,  that  a  Christian  clergyman  need  not  be  a 
member  of  a  separate  caste,  and  a  stranger  to  the  com- 
mon interests  of  his  countrymen.  Yet  human,  genial, 
layman  as  he  was,  he  still  was  not  the  less  —  nay,  he 
was  ten  times  more  —  a  pastor  than  he  would  have 
been  had  he  shut  himself  out  from  the  haunts  and 
walks  of  men.  He  was  sent  by  Providence,  as  it  were, 
"far  off  to  the  Gentiles"  —  far  off,  not  to  other  lands 


224 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


or  other  races  of  mankind,  but  far  off  from  the  usual 
sphere  of  minister  or  priest,  "  to  fresh  woods  and  pas- 
tures new,"  to  find  fresh  worlds  of  thought  and  wild 
tracts  of  character,  in  which  he  found  a  response  to 
himself,  because  he  gave  a  response  to  them.  Witness 
the  unknown  friends  that  from  far  or  near  sought  the 
wise  guidance  of  the  unknown  counsellor,  who  declared 
to  them  the  unknown  God  after  whom  they  were  seek- 
ing if  haply  they  might  find  Him.  Witness  the  tears 
of  the  rough  peasants  of  Hampshire,  as  they  crowded 
round  the  open  grave,  to  look  for  the  last  time  on  the 
friend  of  thirty  years,  with  whom  were  mingled  the 
passing  hunter  in  his  red  coat  and  the  wild  gipsy  wan- 
derers, mourning  for  the  face  that  they  should  no  more 
see  in  forest  or  on  heath.  Witness  the  grief  which  fills 
the  old  cathedral  town  of  my  own  native  county  and 
of  the  native  county  of  his  ancestors,  beside  the  sands 
of  his  own  Dee,  for  the  recollection  of  the  energy  with 
which  he  there  gathered  the  youth  of  Chester  round 
him  for  teachings  of  science  or  religion.  Witness  the 
grief  which  has  overcast  this  venerable  church,  which 
in  two  short  years  he  had  made  his  own,  and  where  all 
felt  that  he  had  found  a  place  worthy  of  himself,  and 
that  in  him  the  place  had  found  an  occupant  worthy  to 
fill  it.  In  these  days  of  rebuke  and  faintheartedness, 
when  so  many  gifted  spirits  shrink  from  embarking  on 
one  of  the  noblest,  because  the  most  sacred,  of  all  pro- 
fessions, it  ought  to  be  an  encouragement  to  be  re- 
minded that  this  fierce  poet  and  masculine  reformer 
deemed  his  energies  not  misspent  in  the  high  yet  hum- 
ble vocation  of  an  English  clergyman ;  that,  however 
much  at  times  suspected,  avoided,  rebuffed,  he  }ret,  like 
others  who  have  gone  before  him,  at  last  won  from  his 
brethren  the  willing  tribute  of  honor  and  love,  which 
once  had  been  sturdily  refused  "or  grudgingly  granted. 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


225 


Scholar,  poet,  novelist,  he  yet  felt  himself  to  be,  with 
all  and  before  all,  a  spiritual  teacher  and  guide. 

We  do  not  claim  for  him,  what  he  never  claimed  for 
himself,  the  character  of  a  profound  theologian.  For 
the  disentanglement  of  the  historical  growth  of  Chris- 
tian doctrine,  so  indispensable  to  the  right  understand- 
ing of  its  language  and  its  meaning,  for  the  critical 
researches  which  have  in  our  time  endeavored  to  trace 
back  to  their  remote  origin  the  sacred  books,  and  have 
given  new  life  to  their  history,  philosophy,  and  poetry 
—  he  had  little  inclination ;  perhaps  he  rendered  scant 
justice  to  those  who  ventured  on  that  arduous  but 
necessary  service  of  Divine  truth,  opening  the  horizon 
and  clearing  the  path  for  all  who  would  enter  on  the 
sacred  ministry  of  the  Word  of  God,  even  as  the  scien- 
tific discoveries  in  which  he  himself  so  much  delighted 
did  the  same  for  the  Works  of  God. 

One  fatherly  friend  and  counsellor  he  followed  close- 
ly ;  he  felt  that  to  him  he  owed  his  own  self,  and  would 
sometimes  playfully  say  it  was  enough  for  him  to  be  to 
the  outside  world  the  interpreter  of  Frederick  Maurice. 
But  with  or  without  that  inspiring  influence,  it  was 
still  a  noble  pastoral  function  that,  amidst  all  the 
wavering  inconstancy  of  our  time,  he  called  upon  the 
men  of  his  generation,  with  a  steadfastness  and  assured 
conviction  that  of  itself  steadied  and  reassured  the 
minds  of  those  for  whom  he  spoke,  "to  stand  fast  in 
the  faith."  "  In  the  faith."  On  what  special  form  of 
the  Christian  faith  did  he  most  insist  ?  In  what  special 
fastness  and  fortress  of  the  ancient  Catholic  faith  of 
former  times,  or  of  our  own  English  Protestant  faith, 
did  he  plant  his  foot  with  this  undoubting  firmness? 
Doubtless  for  him,  as  for  many,  the  old  walls  seemed 
sufficient  for  the  coming  strife,  and  he  cared  not  to 
repair  their  breaches ;  the  old  vessels  seemed  to  him 


226 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


strong  enough  to  contain  the  new  wine,  and  he  cared 
not  to  make  new  vehicles  even  for  the  fermentation  of 
the  "yeast"  which  he  himself  had  stirred.  But  still 
there  were  two  main  doctrines  —  old  as  eternity,  yet 
forever  needing  to  be  renewed  with  each  age  of  the 
world  —  which  he  held  with  a  fervor  and  tenacity  all 
his  own,  with  a  freshness  and  a  vigor  that  amounted 
almost  to  the  originality  of  genius  —  which,  in  his 
teaching,  enlightened  and  controlled  and  colored  even 
the  most  antique  and  the  most  trite  of  the  ordinary 
teachings  of  past  or  present  times. 

One  of  these  fixed,  paramount,  over-ruling  persua- 
sions was  the  belief,  often  forgotten,  often  derided, 
sometimes  even  severely  discountenanced,  that  the 
main  part  of  the  religion  of  mankind  and  of  Christen- 
dom should  consist  in  the  strict  fulfilment  of  the  duty 
of  man,  which  is  the  will  of  God.  Alike  in  the  Old 
Testament  and  in  the  New,  he  delighted  to  bring 
together  the  golden  passages  which  exalt  the  law,  the 
statutes,  the  testimonies,  the  commandments  of  God ; 
and  he  set  forth  their  ancient  meaning,  for  our  modern 
days,  in  his  own  plain,  strong  English  words,  which 
none  can  mistake  or  forget,  and  which  have  the  rare 
merit  of  being  at  once  perfectly  intelligible  and  per- 
fectly true. 

Nothing  can  be  a  substitute  for  purity  or  virtue. 
"  Man  will  always  try  to  find  a  substitute  for  it.  But 
let  no  man  lay  any  such  flattering  unction  to  his  soul. 
The  first  and  last  business  of  every  living  being,  what- 
ever be  his  station,  party,  creed,  tastes,  duties,  is  Moral- 
ity. Virtue,  virtue,  always  virtue  !  Nothing  that  man 
ever  invents  will  absolve  him  from  the  universal  neces- 
sity of  being  good  as  God  is  good,  righteous  as  God  is 
righteous,  and  holy  as  God  is  holy." 

And  this  leads  me  to  the  other  doctrine,  which  also 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


227 


shall  be  stated  in  his  own  words,  as  we  heard  him  from 
this  place,  when  he  delivered  his  farewell  sermon  before 
starting  for  the  American  continent,  in  conclusion  of 
that  brilliant  and  solemn  course  to  which,  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  the  eager  multitudes  came  to  hear  the  new 
preacher  of  our  Abbey. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  "  new  friends,  and  almost  all 
friends  unknown,  and  alas !  never  to  be  known  by  me, 
you  who  are  to  me  as  people  floating  down  a  river, 
while  I,  the  preacher,  stand  upon  the  bank  and  call,  in 
hope  that  some  of  you  may  catch  some  word  of  mine 
ere  the  great  stream  shall  bear  you  out  of  sight  —  oh 
catch,  at  least,  catch  this  one  word,  the  last  which  I 
shall  speak  here  for  many  months,  and  which  sums  up 
all  which  I  have  been  trying  to  say  to  you  of  late.  Fix 
in  your  minds,  or  rather  ask  God  to  fix  in  your  minds, 
this  one  idea  of  an  absolutely  good  God ;  good  with  all 
forms  of  goodness  which  you  respect  and  love  in  man ; 
good  as  you,  and  I,  and  every  honest  man,  understand 
the  plain  word  good.  Slowly  you  will  acquire  that 
grand  and  all-illuminating  idea  ;  slowly  and  most  im- 
perfectly at  best ;  for  who  is  mortal  man  that  he  should 
conceive  and  comprehend  the  goodness  of  the  infinitely 
good  God?  But  see,  then,  whether,  in  the  light  of  that 
one  idea,  all  the  old-fashioned  Christian  ideas  about 
the  relations  of  God  to  man  —  whether  a  Providence, 
Prayer,  Inspiration,  Revelation ;  the  Incarnation,  the 
Passion,  and  the  final  triumph,  of  the  Son  of  God  — 
whether  all  these,  I  say,  do  not  begin  to  seem  to  you, 
not  merely  beautiful,  not  merely  probable,  but  rational 
and  logical  and  necessary  moral  consequences  from  the 
one  idea  of  an  Absolute  and  Eternal  Goodness,  the 
Living  Parent  of  the  Universe.  And  so  I  leave  you 
to  the  Grace  of  God." 

So  he  spoke,  standing  here  as  I  stand  now,  as  on  the 


228 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


banks  of  this  great  river  of  life.  So  he  speaks  to  us 
still,  standing  on  the  farther  bank  of  another  vaster, 
deeper,  darker  river,  the  river  of  death.  Whether  he 
sees  us  or  not,  we  know  not ;  whether  in  that  light  into 
which  we  trust  he  has  passed,  those  strong  impassioned 
words  may  have  become  weak  and  pale  ;  how  far,  "  when 
that  which  is  perfect  has  come,  that  which  is  partial  in 
them  shall  vanish  away,"  like  the  half-formed  thoughts 
and  inarticulate  utterances  of  a  child,  we  know  not ; 
but  this  we  cannot  and  we  will  not  doubt,  that  as  they 
were  his  last  message  to  us  at  that  last  parting,  so  they 
contain  in  substance  and  spirit  the  message  which  he 
would  have  delivered  to  us  down  to  his  last  moment 
on  earth,  and,  if  possible,  beyond  it.  When  the  shad- 
ows of  death  were  closing  him  round,  still,  we  are  told, 
the  same  beatific  vision  of  that  which  alone  makes  the 
blessedness  of  heaven  was  before  his  failing  sight  — 
"  How  beautiful,"  he  said,  "  how  beautiful  is  God !  " 

Stand  fast,  O  my  brethren,  stand  fast  in  that  faith, 
in  the  faith  that  God  is  good,  and  that  man,  to  be  well- 
pleasing  to  God,  must  be  good  also.  That  faith  which 
is  indeed  the  "  Good  news  of  God  "  to  man,  "  that  Name 
of  the  Eternal,"  was  to  him  "  a  strong  tower,  in  which 
the  righteous  could  take  refuge  and  be  safe  "  — "  the 
stronghold  and  the  castle  to  which  he  would  always 
resort,"  from  which  he  derived  whatever  strength  and 
force  there  was  in  his  creed  or  in  his  life. 

Stand  ye  fast  in  this  faith,  O  wavering,  perplexed, 
anxious  souls,  and  you  shall  not  be  shaken  by  doubt, 
nor  undermined  by  superstition.  Stand  fast  in  this 
faith,  O  sorrowing,  suffering,  bereaved  friends,  who  feel 
that  in  the  removal  of  those  whom  you  have  loved  or 
admired  the  splendor  of  your  life  is  dimmed,  and  you 
shall  not  be  sorry  as  men  without  hope  for  those  that 
sleep  in  Him  who  is  Perfect  Grace  and  Perfect  Truth. 


CHARLES  KINGSLEY. 


229 


Stand  fast  in  this  faith,  and  by  it  correct,  enlarge,  en- 
lighten, strengthen,  whatever  other  faith  you  have. 

And  not  only  stand  fast  in  it,  but  follow  it  onward 
whithersoever  it  leads  you.  Be  not  only  "  steadfast 
and  unmovable,"  but  be  also  "abounding,"  overflowing 
in  the  ever-increasing  "  work  of  the  Lord  "  which  lies 
before  us  all,  "  forasmuch  as  you  know  "  and  have  seen 
in  him  that  his  labor  was  "  not  in  vain  in  the  Lord." 

On  his  last  journey  in  America,  in  answer  to  one  who 
had  wished  him  long  life,  he  replied:  —  "That  is- the 
last  thing  that  I  desire.  It  may  be  that,  as  one  grows 
older,  one  acquires  more  and  more  the  painful  conscious- 
ness of  the  difference  between  what  ought  to  be  done 
and  what  can  be  done,  and  sits  down  more  quietly  when 
one  gets  on  the  wrong  side  of  fifty,  and  lets  others  start 
up  to  do  for  us  the  things  we  cannot  do  for  ourselves. 
But  it  is  the  highest  pleasure  that  a  man  can  have  who 
has  turned  down  the  hill  at  last  (and  to  his  own  exceed- 
ing comfort)  to  believe  that  younger  spirits  will  rise  up 
after  him,  and  catch  the  lamp  of  truth,  as  in  the  old 
lamp-bearing  race  of  Greece,  out  of  his  hand  before  it 
expires,  and  carry  it  on  to  the  goal  with  swifter  and 
more  even  feet." 

The  lamp  has  fallen  from  that  hand :  it  is  for  us,  for 
you,  to  hand  it  on,  with  increased  light,  to  the  genera- 
tions yet  to  come. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


February  28,  1875,  after  the  funeral  of  Sir  Charles  Lyell. 

The  earth  was  without  form  and  void ;  and  darkness  was  upon  the 
face  of  the  deep.  And  the  Spirit  of  God  moved  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters.  —  Genesis  i.  2. 

These  words,  from  the  Book  of  Genesis,  of  which 
the  lessons  are  now  in  our  church  services  drawing  to 
a  close,  convey  a  sense  wider  than  their  mere  literal 
transcript.  They  express  the  transition  from  that  gulf 
which  by  the  ancient  Greeks  was  called  "  Chaos,"  to 
that  grace  and  order  which,  under  the  name  of  "  Kos- 
mos,"  has  been  adopted  by  a  famous  modern  philoso- 
pher to  describe  the  system  of  the  universe.  The  words 
which  portray  the  formless  void  of  the  earth,  convey 
in  the  original,  in  the  most  forcible  manner,  the  image 
of  the  old  discordant  elements  of  conflict,  whilst  the 
word  used  for  the  moving  of  the  Divine  Spirit  on  the 
face  of  the  waters  expresses  the  gentle  brooding  and 
yearning  as  of  a  parent-bird  over  the  troubled  deep.1 
The  language,  however  poetic,  childlike,  parabolical, 
and  unscientific,  yet  impresses  upon  us  the  principle 
in  the  moral  and  the  material  world,  that  the  law  of 
the  Divine  operation  is  the  gradual,  peaceful,  progres- 
sive redaction  and  development  of  discord  into  har- 
mony, of  confusion  into  order,  of  darkness  into  light. 

To  unfold  and  to  exemplify  that  law  is  in  various  , 

i  "Dove-like  sat  brooding  o'er  the  vast  abyss." — Milton's  Paradise 
Lost,  Book  1. 
2S0 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  231 


degrees  one  of  the  chief  missions  of  the  nobler  souls  in 
whom  the  Divine  Spirit,  according  to  the  diversity  of 
its  gifts,  leads  on  the  human  race  towards  perfection. 
It  has  so  chanced  that  within  this  short  month  of  Feb- 
ruary, by  a  most  unusual  coincidence  of  mortality,  twice 
have  the  gates  of  this  Abbey  been  opened  to  pay  the 
last  honors  to  two  men,  widely  apart  in  all  else,  but 
alike  in  the  fulfilment  of  this  Divine  Law  —  the  one 
the  acknowledged  chief1  of  the  English  musicians  of 
our  time  ;  the  other,  who  was  yesterday  laid  in  his 
grave,  the  acknowledged  chief  of  those  who  have  de- 
voted themselves  to  the  study  of  our  mother-earth. 

I.  Suffer  me  before  passing  to  this,  the  main  subject 
of  our  thoughts,  to  say  a  few  words  of  the  first  of  these 
two  gifted  persons ;  the  more  so,  that  his  special  work 
was  no  unapt  commentary  on  the  sacred  text,  no  un- 
suitable prelude  to  that  which  shall  follow. 

Of  all  the  branches  of  art  and  letters,  none  more 
reveals  the  hidden  capacities  of  the  human  soul,  or  of 
"  the  fearful  and  wonderful "  structure  of  the  human 
frame,  than  the  slow  and  yet  certain  process  through 
which  from  the  simplest  and  the  most  barbarous  sounds 
that  Art,  which  both  heathens  and  Christians  have  not 
scrupled  to  call  Divine,  has  called  into  being  worlds 
of  melody  and  harmony,  which  have  entranced  the  ear, 
and  calmed  the  heart,  and  elevated  the  mind  of  suc- 
ceeding generations  of  mankind,  gaining  in  volume  and 
complexity  and  force,  as  time  has  rolled  on.    The  spirit 
hich  brooded  over  the  rude  lyre  of  Orpheus  or  the 
jugli  harp  of  David,  is  the  same  spirit  which  breathes 
trough  the  anthems  of  our  great  cathedrals  or  the 
horal  strains  of  our  oratorios  ;  but  what  a  pathos,  what 
-  majesty,  what  a  glory,  of  which  David  2 never  dreamed, 

1  Sir  William  Sterndale  Bennett,  who  was  buried  in  the  Abbey  on 
Feb.  6,  1875. 

a  "  I  think,"  said  Luther,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  "that  if  David 


232  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


has  been  inspired  into  these  sounds,  by  the  genius  of  a 
Purcell  or  a  Beethoven,  a  Handel  or  a  Mendelssohn ! 
Some  of  us  may  recall  the  well-known  words  in  winch 
the  contrast  of  this  development  has  been  drawn  out 
by  one  whose  insight  into  the  secrets  of  musical  art,  and 
whose  complete  mastery  over  the  musical  cadences  of 
our  English  tongue  are  unquestioned,  however  much 
we  may  lament  the  uncertain  tone  of  his  theological 
trumpet,  or  wonder  at  the  oblique  march  of  his  wayward 
genius. 

There  are  seven  notes  in  the  scale ;  make  them  fourteen ;  yet 
what  a  slender  outfit  for  so  vast  an  enterprise !  What  science  brings 
so  much  out  of  so  little  ?  Out  of  what  poor  elements  does  some 
great  master  in  it  create  his  new  world  1  ...  Is  it  possible  that 
that  inexhaustible  evolution  and  disposition  of  notes,  so  rich  yet  so 
simple,  so  intricate  yet  so  regulated,  so  various  yet  so  majestic, 
should  be  a  mere  sound,  which  is  gone  and  perishes  ?  Can  it  be 
that  those  mysterious  stirrings  of  heart,  and  keen  emotions,  and 
strange  yearnings  after  we  know  not  what,  and  awful  impressions 
from  we  know  not  whence,  should  be  wrought  in  us  by  what  is 
unsubstantial,  and  comes  and  goes,  and  begins  and  ends  in  itself  ? 
No,  they  have  escaped  from  some  higher  sphere ;  they  are  the  out- 
pourings of  eternal  harmony  in  the  medium  of  created  sound; 
they  are  echoes  from  our  home ;  they  are  the  voice  of  Angels ;  or 
the  Magnificat  of  Saints ;  or  the  living  laws  of  Divine  Governance ; 
or  the  Divine  Attributes ;  something  are  they  besides  themselves 
which  we  cannot  compass,  which  we  cannot  utter  —  though  mortal 
man,  and  he,  perhaps  not  otherwise  distinguished  above  his  fellows, 
has  the  gift  of  eliciting  them.1 

To  elicit  these  marvels,  to  elevate  that  glorious  art, 
was  the  mission  of  the  gentle  musician  who,  three  wee 
ago,  was  laid  beside  those  who,  in  earlier  days  in  tt 
church  or  nation,  in  the  words  of  the  sacred 2  write: 
have  "handled  the  harp  and  organ,"  and  "found  o' 

rose  from  the  dead,  he  would  wonder  much  to  find  how  far  we  ha' 
advanced  in  music." 

1  Dr.  Newman's  University  Sermons,  pp.  318,  319. 

2  Gen.  iv.  21;  Ecclus.  xliv.  5. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  233 


musical  tunes ; "  by  such  heavenly  strains  he  soothed 
his  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  others,  when  they  have 
sat  down  "  wearied  with  the  journey  " 1  of  life ;  and 
again  and  again  will  his  memory  be  recalled  to  us,  as 
we  hear  the  sacred  melody  on  which  he  has  written,  as 
on  waves  of  light,  those  Divine  words,  which  describe, 
as  it  were,  the  second  creation  of  the  world,  which  ought 
to  stand  as  the  principle  of  all  Christian  worship  —  "  God 
is  a  spirit,  and  they  that  worship  Him  must  worship  Him 
in  spirit  and  in  truth." 

II.  I  have  said  that  this  passing  allusion  to  the  de- 
parted musician,  this  indication  of  the  latent  capacities 
for  spiritual  emotion  wrapped  up  even  in  abstract  and 
inanimate  things,  in  elements  seemingly  without  form 
and  void,  is  no  unfitting  prelude  to  the  consideration  of 
that  study  of  nature,  of  which  he  who  has  just  followed 
to  the  same  long  home  was  so  bright  an  example.  A 
celebrated  teacher  of  our  age,  to  whom  music  was  a 
sealed  book,  but  to  whom  objects  of  natural  beauty  were 
full  of  enjoyment,  used  to  say,  "  Wild  flowers  are  my 
music ; " 2  and  so,  in  like  manner,  to  all  students  of 
nature,  earth  and  sea,  with  their  hidden  harmonies,  have 
indeed  a  music  of  their  own,  which,  like  the  secrets  of 
of  the  vocal  art,  have  to  be  drawn  out  by  the  fire  of 
genius,  by  the  persevering  vigilance,  by  the  active  search, 
of  scientific  study.  In  this  spirit  I  propose  to  call  your 
attention  for  a  brief  space  to  the  religious  aspect  of 
"  that  noble  science  of  Geology,"  which  a  great  historian 
has  called  "  the  boast  of  our  age,"  3  and  of  which  the 
words  of  the  text  might  well,  especially  in  regard  to 
the  work  of  him  whom  we  now  commemorate,  be  called 
the  first  germ  and  the  abiding  motto. 

1  The  Woman  of  Samaria,  by  Sir  W.  Sterndale  Bennett. 

2  Arnold's  Life,  p.  185. 

s  Hallam's  Hist,  of  Literature,  vol.  iii.  pt.  iv.  ch.  8. 


234  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 

It  is  well  known  that  when  the  science  of  Geology 
first  arose,  it  was  involved  in  endless  schemes  of  at- 
tempted reconciliation  with  the  letter  of  Scripture. 
There  were,  there  are  perhaps  still,  two  modes  of  recon- 
ciliation of  Scripture  and  science,  which  have  been  each 
in  their  day  attempted,  and  have  each  totally  and  de- 
servedly failed.  One  is  the  endeavor  to  wrest  the 
words  of  the  Bible  from  their  natural  meaning,  and 
force  them  to  speak  the  language  of  science.  Of  this, 
the  earliest,  and  perhaps  the  most  memorable,  example 
was  set  by  the  Greek  translators  in  the  time  of  the 
Ptolemies  —  the  Seventy,  as  they  are  called.  They 
came,  in  the  course  of  their 1  translation,  to  that  verse  of 
Leviticus  2  containing  the  well-known  stumbling-block 
which  they  probably  were  the  first  to  discern,  which 
speaks  of  the  hare  as  one  of  the  animals  that  chew  the 
cud.  In  the  old  world,  before  the  birth  of  accurate  ob- 
servation, that  which  had  the  appearance  of  rumination 
was  mistaken  for  the  reality,  and  was  so  described. 
But,  by  the  time  that  the  Greek  translation  of  the  Bible 
was  undertaken,  the  greatest  naturalist  of  antiquity, 
the  world-famous  Aristotle,  had  already  devoted  his 
sagacious  mind  to  the  study  of  the  habits  of  animals, 
and  through  his  writings  the  true  state  of  the  case  had 
become  known  in  Alexandria.  The  venerable  scholars 
who  were  at  work  on  the  translation  were  too  conscien- 
tious to  reject  the  clear  evidence  of  science ;  but  they 
were  too  timid  to  allow  the  contradiction  to  appear,  and 
therefore,  with  the  usual  rashness  of  fear,  the}'  boldly 
interpolated  the  word  "  not  "  into  the  sacred  text,  and 
thus,  as  they  thought,  reconciled  it  to  science  by  mak- 
ing the  whole  passage  mean  exactly  the  reverse  of  that 
which  was  intended.  This  is  the  earliest  instance  of 
the  falsification  of  Scripture  to  meet  the  demands  of 

1  The  Sephtagint  version.  2  Lev.  xi.  6. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  235 

science ;  and  it  has  been  followed  in  later  times  by  the 
various  efforts  which  have  been  made  to  twist  the  ear- 
lier chapters  of  the  Book  of  Genesis  into  apparent  agree- 
ment with  the  last  results  of  geology  —  representing 
days  not  to  be  days,  morning  and  evening  not  to  be 
morning  and  evening,  the  deluge  not  to  be  the  deluge, 
and  the  ark  not  to  be  the  ark.  On  the  other  hand, 
there  has  sprung  up  in  later  times  the  equal  error  of 
falsifying  science  to  meet  the  supposed  requirements  of 
the  Bible.  Gf  this,  the  most  signal  example  was  when 
the  discoveries  of  Galileo  were  condemned  by  the  Su- 
preme Judge  of  faith  and  morals  in  the  Roman  Church, 
and  when  the  Jesuits  in  their  edition  of  Newton's  "  Prin- 
cipia  "  announced  in  the  preface  that  they  were  con- 
strained to  treat  the  theory  of  gravitation  as  a  fictitious 
hypothesis,  because  else  it  would  conflict  with  the  "de- 
crees of  the  Popes  against  the  motion  of  the  earth." 
This  mode  of  reconciliation  has  also  been  tried  in  our 
times,  at  each  successive  advance  of  science.  Every 
generation  of  the  ecclesiastical  or  religious  world  has 
been  tempted  to  the  hazardous  enterprise  of  denying 
the  voice  of  God  as  He  speaks  to  us  in  His  works,  and 
in  His  laws,  and  often  the  plain  conclusions  of  careful 
observation  have  been  set  aside  as  impious  and  danger- 
ous. 

But  there  is  another  reconciliation  of  a  higher  kind 
which,  we  humbly  trust,  will  never  fail  —  or  rather  not 
a  reconciliation  at  all,  but  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
affinity,  the  identity  which  exists  between  the  spirit  of 
Science  and  the  spirit  of  the  Bible.  And  this  is  of  two 
kinds  —  first,  there  is  the  likeness  of  the  general  spirit 
of  the  truths  of  science  to  the  general  spirit  of  the 
truths  of  the  Bible ;  and,  secondly,  there  is  the  like- 
ness of  the  general  spirit  of  the  method  of  science  to 
the  general  spirit  of  the  method  of  the  Bible. 


236  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 

1.  Let  me  exemplify  both  of  these  in  the  instance  of 
Geology,  and  of  the  illustrious  student  of  geology  who 
has  just  passed  away  from  us.  First,  let  us  see  what 
is  the  geological  truth  which  he  was  the  chief  instru- 
ment in  clearly  setting  forth  and  establishing  on  a  new 
foundation.  It  was  the  doctrine,  wrought  out  by  care- 
ful, cautious  inquiry  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  that  the 
frame  of  this  earth  was  gradually  brought  into  its 
present  condition,  not  by  violent  or  sudden  convulsions, 
but  by  slow  and  silent  action,  the  same  causes  operat- 
ing, as  we  see  operate  now,  through  a  long  succession 
of  ages,  stretching  back  beyond  the  memory  or  imagi- 
nation of  man.  We  have  already  indicated  that  there 
need  be  no  question  raised  whether  or  not  this  doctrine 
agrees  with  the  letter  of  the  Bible.  We  do  not  expect 
that  it  should ;  for  if  there  were  no  such  scientific  re- 
searches and  conclusions,  we  now  know  perfectly  well, 
from  our  increased  insight  into  the  earlier  Biblical  rec- 
ords, that  they  were  not,  and  could  not  be,  literal  and 
prosaic  matter-of-fact  descriptions  of  the  beginning  of 
the  world,  of  which,  as  of  its  end,  "no  man  knoweth," 
or  can  conceive  except  by  figure  and  parable.  It  is 
now  clear  to  diligent  students  of  the  Bible,  that  the 
first  and  second  chapters  of  Genesis  contain  two  narra- 
tives of  the  Creation,  side  by  side,  differing  from  each 
other  in  almost  every  particular  of  time  and  place  and 
order.  It  is  now  certain  that  the  vast  epochs  demanded 
by  scientific  observation  are  incompatible  both  with  the 
six  thousand  j-ears  of  the  Mosaic  chronology,  and  the 
six  days  of  the  Mosaic  Creation.  No  one  now  infers 
from  the  Psalms  that  "  the  earth  is  set  so  fast  that  it 
cannot  be  moved,"  or  that  "  the  sun  "  actually  "  comes 
forth  as  a  bridegroom  from  his  chamber"  —  or  that 
"  the  morning  stars  sang  "  with  an  audible  voice  at  the 
dawn  of  the  creation.    To  insist  on  these  details  as 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


237 


historical  or  scientific,  is  as  contrary  to  the  style  and 
character  of  the  sacred  books  themselves  as  it  is  to  the 
undoubted  facts  of  science.  But  when  from  these  we 
rise  to  the  spirit,  the  ideal,  the  general  drift  and  pur- 
pose of  the  Biblical  accounts,  we  feel  ourselves  In  an 
atmosphere  of  moral  elevation  which  meets  the  highest 
requirements  that  philosophy  can  make  ;  we  find  exactly 
that  affinity  which  we  should  expect  to  find  between 
the  most  sacred,  the  most  majestic  of  ancient  records 
(even  if  we  say  no  more),  and  the  most  certain  and 
sublime  of  modern  discoveries. 

I  have  often  spoken  before  of  this  inner  harmony 
between  the  highest  flights  of  Scripture  and  the  highest 
flights  of  science  or  genius.  Look  at  the  discoveries 
of  Geology  in  this  light,  and  they  will  appear  to  us  not 
only  not  irreligious,  but  as  filling  the  old  religious 
truths  with  a  new  life  of  their  own,  and  receiving  from 
those  truths  a  hallowing  glory  in  return.  When  the 
historian  of  our  planet  points  out  to  us  that  the  succes- 
sive layers  of  the  earth's  surface  were  formed  not  by 
strange  and  sudden  shocks,  but  by  the  same  constant 
action  of  wind  and  wave,  of  falling  leaves,  and  silent 
stream,  and  floating  ice,  and  rolling  stones,  that  we  see 
in  operation  daily  before  our  eyes ;  that  there  were  not 
separate  centres  of  creation,  but  one  primal  law,  which 
formed  and  governs  all  created  beings ;  what  is  this 
but  the  echo  of  those  voices  which  of  old  declared  that 
"  in  the  beginning  the  heavens  and  the  earth  were  cre- 
ated," 1  not  by  conflicting  deities,  but  by  One  supreme 
and  indivisible  ;  which  told  us  that  "  God's  word  en- 
dureth  forever  in  heaven ; "  that  "  His  faithfulness 
continues  throughout  all  generations;"  that  "as  He 
established  the  earth,  so  it  abideth ; "  that  "  all  things 
continue  according  to  His  ordinance  ;  "  2  that  "  He  who 

1  Gen.  i.  1.  a  Ps.  cxix.  89-91. 


238 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


laid  out  the  foundation  of  the  world  above  the  waters, 
for  His  mercy  endureth  forever,"  is  the  same  as  He  who 
"  daily  giveth  food  to  all  flesh,"  for  it  is  the  same  mercy 
that;  endureth  forever;"1  that  "He  has  given  a  law 
which  shall  not  be  broken."  And  are  we  not  reminded 
that  long  ago  there  was  one  who  stood  in  the  cave  of 
the  cliffs  of  Horeb,  and  waited  for  the  sign  of  the  Di- 
vine operations,2  and  that  it  was  then  borne  in  upon  his 
soul  that  the  Lord  was  not  in  the  earthquake,  the  hur- 
ricane, or  the  fire,  but  in  the  still  small  whispering 
murmur  of  the  gentle  air,  and  the  silence  of  the  desert? 
Do  we  not  in  those  deep  descents  into  the  ocean  gulfs, 
those  subtle  transformations  of  land  and  sea  and  all 
that  in  them  is,  discern  a  reflex  of  that  Presence  which 
has  "  searched  us  out  and  known  us ;  "  which  "  did  see 
our  substance  yet  being  imperfect,  and  in  whose  book 
were  written  all  the  members  "  of  the  human  race,  and 
its  habitation,  "  which  day  by  day  were  fashioned  while 
as  yet  there  was  none  of  them  ?  "  3  And  when,  further, 
we  contemplate  the  vast  infinitudes  of  time  and  space, 
that  long  ascending  order,  that  gradual,  insensible  prog- 
ress, which  Geology  demands,  do  we  not  feel  that  much 
as  the  Bible  may  contain  of  detail  and  expression  and 
imagery  running  in  another  direction,  yet  its  general, 
though  not  its  uniform  teaching,  its  highest,  though  not 
its  constant  utterances,  would  encourage  us  to  believe 
that  the  world  is  something  deeper  and  wider  than  we 
in  our  narrow  view  should  imagine  it  to  be  ;  that  crea- 
tion is  something  which  reaches  further  back  and  deeper 
down  than  our  childish  and  limited  notions  would  sug- 
gest to  us  ;  that  the  distance  of  its  first  beginning,  how- 
ever remote,  melts  into  a  distance  remoter  still  ?  It  is 
only  the  doubly  doubtful  Second  Book  of  the  Macca- 
bees 4  which  contains  the  text  that  the  world  was  made 

1  Ps.  cxxxvi.  6,  25.      2  1  Kings  xix.  9-12.      3  Ps.  cxxxix.  1-16. 
4  2  Mace.  vii.  28. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  239 


"of  things  that  were  not."  The  earlier  loftier  teaching 
of  the  Bible  enters  into  no  such  metaphysical  labyrinth. 
There  "  deep  still  calls  to  deep."  There  it  is  still  the 
"  earth  without  form  and  void,  and  darkness  gathering 
over  the  face  of  the  deep."  .In  the  Prophets  of  the 
Bible,  as  in  the  prophets  of  Science,  there  is  a  sense, 
.dim  and  vague,  yet  strong  and  earnest,  of  the  infinite 
variety  of  the  treasure-house  of  creation,  the  infinite 
patience  and  perseverance  of  the  Creator,  "  A  thousand 
years  in  Thy  sight  are  but  as  yesterday,  and  one  day 
as  a  thousand  years."  1  "  My  father  worketh  hitherto 
and  I  work." 2  "  Oh  the  depth  of  the  riches  both  of 
the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God !  How  unsearchable 
are  His  judgments,  and  His  ways  past  finding  out!"3 
"  Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundations  of  the 
earth  ?  whereupon  are  the  foundations  thereof  fastened, 
or  who  laid  the  corner-stone  thereof?  .  .  .  Hast  thou 
entered  into  the  springs  of  the  sea,  or  walked  in  the 
search  of  the  depth  ?  "  4  "  There  is  one  glory  of  the 
sun,  and  another  glory  of  the  moon,  and  another  glory 
of  the  stars.  The  first  is  that  which  is  natural,  and 
afterward  that  which  is  spiritual."  5 

Surely  to  expressions  such  as  these,  however  little 
they  can  be  pressed  into  scientific  exactness,  the  cor- 
relative theory  of  science  is  not  that  which  limits  the 
duration  of  earth  to  the  space  of  a  few  brief  centuries, 
but  that  which  expands  it  to  illimitable  ages.  Surely 
the  view  which  shows  the  long  preparation  of  the  earth 
for  man  gives  a  grander  prelude  to  his  appearance  on 
this  globe,  than  that  which  makes  him  coeval  with  the 
beasts  that  perish.  Surely  the  intimations  of  future 
progress,  which  are  suggested  by  observing  the  latent 
faculties  wherewith  he  is  endowed,  are  more  consonant 

1  Ps.  xc.  2;  2  Pet.  iii.  8.         2  j0ijn  v.  17.         8  Rom.  xj.  33. 
4  Job  xxxviii.  4-16.  s  1  Cor.  xv.  41-46. 


240  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 

to  the  hope  of  a  glorious  and  fruitful  immortality  than 
the  view  which  regards  him  as  a  stationary  being,  know- 
ing at  once  all  that  he  can  ever  know,  and  contented 
with  the  narrow  horizon  that  is  alone  open  to  him.  All 
honor  to  the  peaceful  conqueror  who,  b}r  years  of 
unhasting,  unresting  research,  annexed  these  new  prov- 
inces of  thought  to  the  knowledge  of  man,  and  there- 
fore to  the  glory  of  God !  All  honor  to  the  herald  and 
archaeologist  of  our  race,  who  has  unrolled  in  all  its 
length  and  breadth  the  genealogy  of  the  antiquity  of 
man,  and  the  antiquity  of  his  habitation!  All  honor 
to  the  bold  yet  reverent  touch  which,  in  the  Temple 
of  the  Most  High,  not  made  with  hands,  rent  asunder 
from  the  top  to  the  bottom*  the  veil  that  concealed  its 
full  proportions,  and  revealed  its  ever-widening,  ever- 
lengthening  vistas  backward  into  the  farthest  past  of 
memory,  and  forward  to  the  endless  future  of  hope. 
Not  the  limitation,  but  the  amplification  of  the  idea  of 
God,  is  the  result  of  the  labors  of  such  a  student.  Not 
the  descent,  but  the  ascent  of  man  is  the  final  result 
of  his  speculations.  If,  as  he  used  to  say,  "  we  have 
in  our  bones  the  chill  "  of  that  contracted  view  in  which 
we  had  been  brought  up,  yet  the  enlargement  which  he 
effected  for  the  view  of  the  past  ought  to  give  a  warmth, 
a  fire  to  our  heart  of  hearts,  to  our  soul  of  souls,  in 
proportion  as  we  feel  that  we  are  not  the  creatures  of 
yesterday,  but  "  the  heirs  of  all  the  ages  "  —  even  the 
ages  that  cannot  be  numbered,  and  of  worlds  that  have 
perished  in  the  making  of  us  ;  the  ancestors,  let  us  trust, 
of  those  who,  compared  with  us,  shall  seem  to  have 
attained  to  "  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,"'  wherein 
"  old  things  shall  have  passed  away,  and  all  things  shall 
have  become  new,"  1  under  the  breath  of  that  Spirit 
which  is  forever  brooding  over  the  face  of  the  troubled 
universe. 

i  2  Pet.  iii.  13:  2  Cor.  v.  17. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  241 

2.  This  leads  me  to  the  likeness  of  the  general  spirit 
of  the  method  of  the  philosophic  geologist,  and  the 
general  spirit  of  the  method  of  the  Bible.  If  there  be 
any  one  point  in  which  the  whole  structure  of  the  Bible 
and  the  whole  plan  of  its  teaching  is  a  model  to  the 
student,  whether  of  nature,  of  man,  or  of  God,  it  is  the 
slow  "  increasing  purpose "  of  Revelation,  through 
"  sundry  times  and  divers  manners,"  working  as  if  with 
the  persistence  of  unconscious  instinct  and  the  patience 
of  deliberate  will  towards  the  fulness  of  time,  with  the 
constant  warning  to  each  succeeding  age  to  have  the 
eyes  and  ears  of  its  mind  open  to  the  reception  of  Light 
and  Truth.  Thus,  as  in  art,  so  in  science,  the  jvhole 
race  of  mankind,  and  each  individual  member  of  it, 
must  aim  to  deserve  that  proud  yet  lowly  title  by  which 
the  Founder  of  Christianity  called  His  followers  —  Dis- 
ciples, that  is,  "  scholars,"  learners'  even  to  the  very 
end ;  scholars  bent  on  the  attainment  of  that  Truth  in 
all  its  parts,  "  to  bear  witness  to  which  He  was  born, 
and  for  which  cause  He  came  into  the  world." 1  To 
invest  the  pursuit  of  Truth  with  the  sanctity  of  a  reli- 
gious duty,  to  make  Truth  and  Goodness  meet  together 
in  one  holy  fellowship,  is  the  high  reconciliation  of 
Religion  and  Science  for  which  all  scientific  and  all 
religious  men  should  alike  labor  and  pray.  "  Sacred, 
no  doubt,"  said  one  of  the  greatest  of  astronomers, 
"  sacred  is  the  authority  of  the  Fathers ;  sacred  was 
Lactantius,  who  denied  the  earth's  rotundity ;  sacred 
was  Augustine,  who  admitted  the  earth  to  be  round, 
but  denied  the  antipodes  ;  sacred  is  the  authority  of  the 
moderns,  who  admit  the  smallness  of  the  earth,  yet 
deny  its  motion ;  yet,  more  sacred  to  me  than  all  these 
is  —  Truth."  So  spoke  Kepler.  Yes;  more  sacred 
than  all  things  is  Truth,  next  after  or  along  with  Good- 

1  John  xviii.  37. 


242  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


ness,  and  therefore  to  be  sought  calmly,  temperately, 
deliberately,  as  in  the  Holy  of  Holies  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  Most  High. 

Such  a  union  of  patient  research  and  reverential 
piety  has  been  the  special  glory  of  the  great  school  of 
English  Geology.  Amidst  all  the  alarms  of  the  reli- 
gious world,  and  all  the  embitterments  of  the  scientific 
world,  it  has  been  our  just  pride  in  England  that  the 
two  pioneers  of  this  newborn  science,  at  a  time  when  it 
had  to  fight  its  way  against  prejudice,  and  ignorance, 
and  apathy,  towards  its  present  hard-won  place,  were 
honored  dignitaries  of  the  National  Church.  One  was 
the  illustrious  Professor  of  Cambridge,  whose  generous 
heart,  and  brilliant  fancy,  and  heavenward  hope  enlight- 
ened and  warmed  his  whole  being,  and  continued  to 
irradiate  a  life  prolonged  beyond  the  allotted  term  of 
man's  existence.  The  other  was  the  eager,  indefatig- 
able student,  who  left  his  chair  at  Oxford  only  to  pre- 
side over  this  ancient  Church,  whose  very  stones  and 
dust  were  dear  to  him,  but  by  him  examined  and  sifted 
as  never  before  by  hand  or  eye  of  English  layman  or 
ecclesiastic.  And  now  within  these  walls,  beneath  the 
monument  of  Woodward,  the  earliest  of  English  geol- 
ogists, lies  the  latest  of  that  distinguished  group,  the 
friend  of  Sedgwick  and  the  pupil  of  Buckland.  The 
tranquil  triumph  of  Geology,  once  thought  so  danger- 
ous, now  so  quietly  accepted  by  the  Church,  no*  less 
than  by  the  world,  is  one  more  proof  of  the  groundless- 
ness of  theological  panics  in  the  face  of  the  advances 
of  scientific  discovery. 

Of  him,  who  is  thus  laid  to  rest,  if  of  any  one  of  our 
time,  it  may  be  said  that  he  followed  Truth  with  a  zeal 
as  sanctified  as  ever  fired  the  soul  of  a  missionary,  and 
with  a  humility  as  child-like  as  ever  subdued  the  mind 
of  a  simple  scholar.    For  discovering  facts,  confirming 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 


243 


or  rectifying  conclusions,  there  was  no  journey  too  dis- 
tant to  undertake.  Never  did  he  think  of  his  own  fame 
or  name  in  comparison  with  the  scientific  results  which 
he  sought  to  establish.  From  early  youth  to  extreme 
old  age  it  was  to  him  a  solemn  religious  duty  to  be  in- 
cessantly learning,  constantly  growing,  fearlessly  cor- 
recting his  own  mistakes,  always  ready  to  receive  and 
reproduce  from  others  that  which  he  had  not  in  himself. 
Science  and  Religion  for  him  not  only  were  not  divorced, 
but  were  one  and  indivisible.  He  felt  with  another 
eminent  votary  of  science  in  our  time,  that  this  divorce, 
unhappily  so  welcome  to  some  on  either  side,  is  "  a  mere 
pretence,"  neither  true  in  fact,  neither  Christian  nor 
philosophic  in  idea. 1  "  The  spiritual  world  and  the  in- 
tellectual world  are  no  more  to  be  separated  in  this 
fashion,"  than  are  the  secular  and  the  religious,  the 
Church  and  the  Commonwealth.  The  instinct  which 
impels  us  to  seek  for  harmony  between  the  highest 
truths  of  science  and  the  highest  truths  of  the  Bible  is 
an  instinct  far  nobler  and  truer  than  that  which  would 
seek  to  part  them  asunder.  In  this  higher  instinct,  he 
who  has  departed  fully  shared.  The  great  religious 
problems  of  our  time  were  never  absent  from  his  mind. 
The  infinite  possibilities  of  nature  gave  him  fresh  ground 
for  his  unshaken  hope  in  the  unknown,  immortal  future. 
His  conviction  of  the  peaceful,  progressive  combination 
of  natural  causes  towards  the  formation  of  our  globe 
filled  him  with  a  profound  and  ever  profounder  sense  of 
"  the  wonder  and  the  glory  of  this  marvellous  universe." 
The  generous  freedom  allowed  to  religious  inquiry  in  the 
National  Church,  the  cause  of  humanity  in  the  world  at 
large,  were  to  him  as  dear  as  though  they  were  his  own 
personal  and  peculiar  concern.  With  that  one  faithful, 
beloved,  and  beautiful  soul,  who,  till  within  the  last  two 

1  The  Duke  of  Argyll  in  The  Reign  of  Law,  pp.  57,  58. 


244  THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY. 

years  of  his  life,  shared  all  his  joys  and  all  his  sorrows, 
all  his  labors  and  all  his  fame,  he  walked  the  lofty  path, 
"  which  the  vulture's  eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  the  lion's 
whelp  trodden  "  1  —  the  pathway  of  the  just,  "  that  shin- 
eth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day,"  in  which  we 
humbly  trust  that  they  are  now  at  last  reunited  in  the 
presence  of  that  light  which  they  both  so  sincerely 
sought. 

There  is  an  unusual  solemnity  in  the  last  thought  of 
one  who  passes  into  that  Eternal  World,  on  which,  as  in 
a  shadow  or  mirror,  he  had  so  long  and  anxiously  medi- 
tated, in  the  unknown  ages  of  which  he  was,  as  it  were, 
the  first  discoverer.  That  "  lofty  and  melancholy 
Psalm,"  as  a  famous  historian  has  called  it,  which  an- 
cient tradition  has  ascribed  to  Moses,  the  man  of  God, 
well  represents  the  feeling  of  one  grown  gray  with  vast 
experience,  who  here  takes  his  stand  at  the  close  of  his 
earthly  journeyings,  and  contrasts  the  fleeting  genera- 
tions of  men  with  the  huge  forms  of  the  granite  moun- 
tains at  whose  feet  they  have  so  long  wandered,  and 
contrasts  yet  more  mountains  and  men  alike  with  the 
eternity  of  Him  who  existed  and  exists  before,  above, 
and  beyond  them  all.  "Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our 
refuge,  our  dwelling-place  from  generation  to  geneia- 
tion.  Before  the  mountains  were  brought  forth,  or  ever 
the  earth  and  the  world  were  made,  from  everlasting  to 
everlasting  Thou  art  God." 2  Whether  or  not  it  was 
the  funeral  hymn  of  the  Lawgiver  of  Israel,  it  has  be- 
come the  funeral  hymn  of  the  world.  And  it  seems  to 
sum  up  with  peculiar  force  the  inner  life  of  the  Chris- 
tian philosopher,  who  concluded  bis  chief  work  with  the 
contrast  of  "the  relations  which  subsist  between  the 
finite  powers  of  man  and  the  attributes  of  an  Infinite 
and  Eternal  Being,"  3  who  felt  persuaded  that  after  all 

1  Job  xxviii.  7.  2  Psalm  xc.  1,  2.   (See  Ewald.) 

8  Principles  of  Geolor/y,  ii.  621. 

I 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GEOLOGY.  245 

the  magnificent  discoveries  and  speculations  on  moun- 
tain and  valley,  on  earth  and  sea  and  sky,  the  religious 
sentiment  still  remained  the  grandest  and  most  inde- 
structible instinct  of  the  human  race ;  strongest,  most 
sublime  in  those  individuals  of  our  race  that  are  most 
fully  and  perfectly  developed.  At  such  a  solemn  fare- 
well to  the  benefactors  of  mankind,  we  feel  that  the 
True,  the  Just,  the  Good  is  the  Eternal  Principle  and 
Cause  which  outlasts  and  outweighs  all  outward  and 
visible  things.  "  Before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  or  ever  the  earth  and  the  world  were  made,  from 
everlasting  to  everlasting  Thou  art  God." 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


August  1,  1875,  being  the  Sunday  preceding  the  funeral  of  Connop 
Thirlwall,  late  Bishop  of  St.  David's. 

Where  shall  wisdom  be  found  ?  and  where  is  the  place  of  under- 
standing ? —  Job  xxviii.  12. 

This  chapter  of  Job,  appointed  to  be  sung  for  the 
anthem  this  afternoon,  is  not  an  unworthy  glorification 
of  that  grace  and  gift  of  God,  to  which  sometimes  we 
pay  little  heed,  but  which  in  the  Bible  occupies  so  con- 
spicuous a  place  —  the  gift  of  Wisdom  —  the  religious 
use  of  Wisdom.  Not  only  the  Book  of  Job,  but  the 
Book  of  Proverbs,  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes,  the  Book 
of  Wisdom,  the  Book  of  Ecclesiasticus,  and  the  charac- 
ter and  history  of  Solomon,  which  have  just  been  com- 
pleted in  our  Sunday  services,  are  full  of  it.  In  the  old 
Calendar  of  Lessons,  in  this  respect  perhaps  unduly 
reduced,  a  larger  proportion  of  Scripture  was  taken  on 
Sundays  from  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  in  the  description 
of  Wisdom,  than  was  taken  from  almost  any  other  book 
of  the  Old  Testament;  more  than  is  devoted  to  the 
commendation  even  of  Faith,  or  Mercy,  or  Truth,  or 
Love.  And  one  name  of  Christ  Himself,  which  has 
given  its  title  to  the  greatest  of  Eastern  Churches,  is 
the  Eternal  Wisdom. 

I.  What,  then,  is  this  grace  of  wisdom,  and  why  is  it 
so  highly  exalted  ?  Let  us  take  the  words  of  the  text. 
"  Where,"  in  the  Divine  economy,  "  shall  wisdom  be 
found  ?  where  is  the  "  religious  "  place  of  understand- 
ing?" 

246 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM.  247 


1.  First,  wisdom,  as  described  in  the  Bible,  is  that 
eager  desire  of  knowledge  which  rests  unsatisfied  so 
long  as  a  corner  of  darkness  is  left  unexplored ;  that 
passion  for  learning  which,  like  the  fleets  of  Solomon, 
penetrated  into  the  furthermost  regions  of  the  then 
known  world,  and  brought  back  from  the  furthermost 
shores  the  stores  of  natural  history,  and  which  asked 
and  answered  questions  from  all  the  surrounding  na- 
tions, and  which  dived,  as  in  the  Book  of  Job,  into  the 
mysteries  of  the  creation,  "  making  the  weight  for  the 
winds,  a  decree  for  the  rain,  a  way  for  the  lightning  of 
the  thunder ; " 1  "  entering  into  the  treasures  of  tbe 
snow,  and  seeing  the  treasures  of  the  hail,"  examining 
"  out  of  whose  womb  came  the  ice,  and  who  gendered 
the  hoary  frosfof  heaven."  2  Such  a  grand  inquisitive- 
ness  it  is  winch  sends  out  our  ships  to  the  Arctic  seas, 
which  united  in  the  same  tragical  and  romantic  story 
the  beloved  chief,  the  gallant  crews,  and  the  devoted 
and  venerable  widow,  who  herself  has  just  departed, 
and  left  her  memorial  behind  her  in  our  midst.3  That 
joint  career  alike  of  husband  and  of  wife  was  one  illus- 
tration amongst  a  thousand  of  the  elevating,  inspiring 
result  of  efforts  after  knowledge.  It  showed  how, 
instead  of  drying  up  the  heart,  or  depressing  the  moral 
nature,  a  thirst  for  truth  enkindles  and  elevates.  A 
spirit  of  inquiry  may,  no  doubt,  become  frivolous  and 
useless.  But  that  is  not  its  heaven-born  mission,  and  it 
was  no  profane  or  worldly  critic,  but  the  holy  author 
of  the  "  Saints'  Everlasting  Rest,"  who  commended,  by 
precept  as  by  example,  the  religious  duty  of  learning 
all  that  can  be  possibly  learnt  of  God,  of  man,  or  of 

i  Job  xxviii.  25,  26.  2  Job  xxxviii.  22,  29. 

3  The  monument  to  the  memory  of  Sir  John  Franklin  was  erected  in 
the  Abbey  July  31,  1875,  in  the  week  following  Lady  Franklin's  death, 
and  the  day  preceding  this  sermon. 


248 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


nature.  Listen  to  some  of  these  stimulating  injunc- 
tions. "He  that  can  see  God  in  all  things,  and  hath 
all  things  sanctified  by  the  love  of  God,  should  above 
a*ll  things  value  each  particle  of  knowledge  of  which 
such  holy  use  may  be  made,  as  we  value  every  grain  of 
gold."  "  Every  degree  of  knowledge  tendeth  to  more  ; 
and  every  known  truth  befriendeth  others  ;  and  like  fire 
tendeth  to  the  spreading  of  our  knowledge  to  all  neigh- 
bor truths  that  are  intelligible."  "  Look  well  to  all 
things,  or  to  as  many  as  possible.  When  half  is  un- 
known, the  other  half  is  not  half  known."  Such  is  the 
value,  the  eternal  value,  of  learning. 

2.  But  there  is  another  kind  of  wisdom  —  and  far  the 
larger  part  —  which,  although  it  may  be  united  with 
learning,  is  also  often  found  quite  apart  from  it,  and 
which  furnishes  most  of  the  elements  which  go  to  make 
up  the  biblical,  the  religious,  idea  of  wisdom.  The 
exercise  of  "practical  judgment  and  discretion;"  "a 
wise  and  understanding  heart  to  discern  between  good 
and  bad ;  "  "  largeness  of  heart  "  to  take  in  the  varying 
affairs  of  men  ;  the  capacity  for  "justice,  judgment,  and 
equity ;  "  —  this  also,  if  the  Bible,  if  human  experience, 
is  true,  is  a  heavenly  gift  of  the  first  magnitude.  No 
doubt,  wisdom  is  not  of  itself  goodness.  The  Proverbs 
are  not  the  Psalms,  Solomon  was  not  David.  But  wis- 
dom is  next  door  to  goodness,  and  religion  leans  upon 
her.  How  many  benevolent  schemes  have  been  endan- 
gered, how  many  missions  foiled,  how  many  bitter  con- 
troversies engendered  and  perpetuated,  how  many  wild 
superstitions  encouraged,  simply  because  wisdom  has 
not  been  allowed  to  have  her  perfect  work ;  because 
men  have  refused  to  acknowledge  that  common  sense  is 
a  Christian  grace ;  because  the  children  of  light  have 
been  in  their  generation  less  wise  than  the  children  of 
this  world ;  because  we  have  failed  to  bear  in  mind  for 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


249 


how  many  evils  the  real  remedy  is  to  be  found,  not  in 
.ancient  precedent,  or  popular  agitation,  or  resplendent 
principles,  but  in  a  few  homely  maxims  such  as  those 
of  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  a  few  grains  of  discretion, 
sense,  and  foresight !  What  a  new  aspect  would  be  put 
upon  the  idleness,  the  selfishness,  the  extravagance  of 
youth,  if  we  could  be  taught  to  think  not  only  of  its 
sinfulness,  but  of  its  contemptible  folly,  if  we  could  be 
induced  not  only  to  confess  how  often  we  were  misera- 
ble sinners,  but  also  how  often  we  have  been  miserable 
fools ;  what  a  great  security  for  human  welfare  if  we 
were  to  set  ourselves  not  only  to  become  better,  but 
wiser,  not  only  to  gain  holiness  and  virtue,  but,  as 
Solomon  says,  to  "get  wisdom,  get  understanding;  "  to 
pray  that  He  Who  giveth  liberally  and  upbraideth  not 
would,  in  addition  to  His  other  blessings,  "give  us 
wisdom ! " 

And  now  may  I  exemplify  these  remarks  in  the  life 
of  one  who  has  this  week  been  removed  from  amongst 
us,  and  who  will  shortly  be  laid  within  these  walls,  in 
whom  both  sides  of  this  Divine  gift  were  shown  forth 
in  no  ordinary  degree  ?  In  the  opening  of  that  fine 
recapitulation  of  the  different  gifts  of  God,  which  we 
heard  in  the  Epistle  of  this  day,- the  Apostle  says,  "To 
one  is  given  by  the  Spirit  the  word  of  wisdom ;  to 
another  the  word  of  knowledge  by  the  same  Spirit." 
To  the  great  scholar  and  prelate  who  is  gone  we  may 
truly  say  that  by  the  same  Divine  Spirit  the  word  of 
knowledge  and  the  word  of  wisdom  were  given  in  equal 
proportions. 

II.  Let 1  me  freely  speak  to  you  for  a  few  moments 
of  this  patriarch  of  our  national  Church  in  his  two  ca- 

1  The  latter  portion  of  this  sermon  has  been  already  printed  as  a 
Preface  to  the  Bishop's  Letter  to  a  Friend,  edited  by  the  late  Dean  of 
Westminster. 


250  THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


pacities  of  a  universal  scholar  and  of  a  wise  ecclesias- 
tical statesman. 

1.  Of  that  thirst  for  knowledge  in  all  its  parts  of 
which  the  Bible  speaks,  of  the  mastery  of  all  ancient 
and  modern  learning,  few,  if  any,  have  been  more  won- 
derful examples  than  he,  who  from  his  eleventh  till  his 
threescore  and  eighteenth  year  was  always  gathering  in 
fresh  stores  of  understanding.  Of  him,  as  of  Solomon, 
it  might  be  said,  "  Thy  soul  covered  the  whole  earth."  1 
There  was  hardly  a  civilized  language  which  he  had  not 
explored  both  in  its  structure  and  its  literature.  He 
was  the  chief  of  that  illustrious  group  of  English  scholars 
who  first  revealed  to  this  country  the  treasures  of  Ger- 
man research,  and  the  insight  which  that  research  had 
opened  into  the  mysterious  origin  of  the  races,  institu- 
tions, and  religions  of  mankind.  Many  are  now  living 
who  never  can  forget  the  moment  when  in  the  transla- 
tion of  "  Niebuhr's  Roman  History  "  they  for  the  first 
time  felt  that  they  had  caught  a  glimpse  into  the  dark 
corners  of  ancient  times  before  the  dawn  of  history  had 
begun.  There  are  many  who  gathered  their  knowledge 
of  the  Grecian  world  from  the  first  history  which  brought 
all  the  stores  of  modern  learning  to  bear  on  that  glorious 
country  and  its  glorious  people,  and  which  still,  after 
all  that  has  been  done,  remains  the  only  history  filled 
with  the  continuous  sense  of  the  unity  of  its  marvellous 
destinies  in  their  decline  as  well  as  in  their  rise.  Many 
there  are  who  have  never  lost  the  deep  impression  left 
by  the  attempt  to  trace  the  refined  and  solemn  irony  of 
ancient  tragedy  and  human 2  fate ;  many  also  who  in 
his  masterly  analysis  of  the  Evangelical  narratives  first 
found  a  key  at  once  to  the  diversity  and  unity  of  Gospel 
truth,  to  the  structure  and  the  substance  of  the  sacred 


i  Ecclus.  xTvii.  14. 


2  Essay  on  the  Irony  of  Sophocles. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  "WISDOM. 


251 


volume.1  Such  a  man  is  a  boon  to  a  whole  generation, 
both  by  the  example  of  his  industry  and  by  the  light  of 
his  teaching.  Even  to  the  very  last,  even  in  old  age, 
in  blindness,  in  solitude,  he  continued  with  indomitable 
energy  the  task  of  acquiring  new  knowledge,  of  adding 
another  and  another  finish  to  the  never-ending  educa- 
tion of  his  capacious  mind ;  becoming,  as  he  said  when 
at  the  age  of  seventy-six  he  released  himself  from  the 
cares  of  his  diocese  —  becoming  a  boy  once  again,  but  a 
boy  still  at  school,  still  growing  in  wisdom  and  under- 
standing. Hear  it,  laggards  and  sluggards  of  our  laxer 
days !  hear  it,  you  who  spend  your  leisure  in  the  things 
and  the  books  that  perish  with  the  using !  hear  and 
profit  by  the  remembrance  that  there  has  been  one 
amongst  us  to  whom  the  word  of  knowledge  came  in 
all  its  force  and  beauty ;  to  whom  idleness,  ignorance, 
and  indifference  were  an  intolerable  burden  ;  to  whom 
the  acquisition  of  a  new  language  or  a  new  literature 
was  as  the  annexation  of  a  new  dominion,  or  the  inven- 
tion of  a  new  enjoyment !  Well  may  he  rest  amongst 
the  scholars  of  England,  beneath  the  monument  of  Isaac 
Casaubon,  whom  we  have  of  late  learnt  to  know  again 
as  if  he  had  lived  in  our2  days,  in  the  grave  of  his  own 
famous  3  schoolfellow,  of  whose  labors  in  the  same  field 
of  Grecian  history  he  once  said,  with  a  fine  union  of 
simple  modesty  and  noble  disinterestedness,  that  to 
himself  had  been  given  the  rare  privilege  of  seeing  the 
work  which  had  been  the  dream  of  his  own  life  super- 
seded and  accomplished  by  a  like  work  on  a  larger  scale, 
and  in  more  finished  proportions,  by  the  beloved  and 
faithful  friend  of  his  early  youth. 

2.  But  this  was  not  the  half  of  the  wisdom  which 

1  Introduction  to  his  translation  of  Schleiermacher's  Essay  on  St. 
Luke. 

2  Memoir  of  Isaac  Casaubon.   By  Mark  Pattison. 
8  George  Grote. 


252 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


will  lie  buried  in  that  narrow  vault.  There  is  an  old 
English  word  which  has  now  somewhat  changed  its 
meaning,  but  which  was  in  former  times  applied  to  one 
of  our  greatest  divines,  Richard  Hooker  —  the  word 
"  judicious."  In  its  proper  meaning  it  signified  ex- 
actly that  quality  of  judgment,  discretion,  discrimina- 
tion, which  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  the  Biblical 
virtue  of  wisdom.  Hardly,  perhaps,  has  there  been  any 
English  theologian,  rarely  even  any  professional  Judge, 
to  whom  this  epithet,  in  this  its  true  sense  of  judicial, 
judge-like,  was  more  truly  applicable  than  to  the  serene 
and  powerful  intellect  that  has  just  passed  away.  In 
that  massive  countenance,  in  that  measured  diction,  in 
that  deliberate  argument,  in  those  weighty  decisions, 
it  seemed  as  though  Themis  herself  were  enshrined  to 
utter  her  most  impressive  oracles  ;  as  if  he  were  a  living 
monument  (so  said  a  venerable  friend  of  his  own)  on 
which  was  inscribed  "Tncorrupta  fides,  nudaque  Veri- 
tas ; "  as  if  he  had  absorbed  into  his  inmost  being  the 
evangelical  precept,  "  Judge  not  according  to  the  ap- 
pearance, but  judge  righteous  judgment."  "We  would 
not  deny  —  it  would  be  false  to  human  nature,  it  would 
be  false  to  himself  to  deny  —  that  there  were  occasions 
when  even  in  his  firm  hand  the  scales  of  justice  trem- 
bled from  some  unexpected  bias,  when  his  clear  vision 
was  dimmed  for  a  time  by  a  glamor  which  fascinated 
him  the  more  because  its  magical  influence  was  so  unlike 
to  any  thing  in  himself,  when  his  majestic  serenity  was 
ruffled  by  the  irritation  of  some  trivial  contradiction  or 
small  annoyance.  But  for  the  larger  part  of  his  career 
the  even  current  of  his  temper,  the  piercing  accuracy 
of  his  insight,  the  calm  dignity  of  his  judgment,  even 
when  we  might  differ  from  its  conclusions,  remained 
unmoved  and  immovable ;  and  thus,  when  he  rose  to 
the  Episcopal  office,  it  almost  seemed  as  if  in  this  respect 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


253 


it  had  been  created  for  him,  so  naturally  did  he  from  it, 
as  from  a  commanding  eminence,  take  an  oversight  of 
the  whole  field  of  ecclesiastical  events  —  so  entirely  did 
his  addresses  to  his  clergy  assume  the  form  of  judicial 
utterances  on  each  of  the  great  controversies  which 
have  agitated  the  Church  of  England  for  the  last  thirty 
years,  and  thus  become  the  most  faithful  as  well  as  im- 
pressive record  of  that  eventful  time.  Such  a  character, 
moving  or  standing  amongst  us,  insensibly  acted  as  a 
constant  check  on  extravagance,  a  silent  rebuke  to 
partisanship,  a  valuable  witness  to  "  the  entire  domin- 
ion which  prudence  has  (to  use  the  words  of  Burke) 
over  every  exercise  of  power  committed  to  his  hands," 
"  especially  (again  to  use  the  words  of  the  same  great 
statesman)  when  we  have  lived  to  see  prudence  and 
conformity  to  circumstances  wholly  set  at  naught  in 
our  late  controversies,  as  if  they  were  the  most  con- 
temptible and  irrational  of  all  things."  To  have  beheld 
such  a  judgment-seat  established  amongst  us  is  a  warn- 
ing and  a  blessing  for  which  we  shall  often  crave  in 
vain  now  that  its  oracle  is  dumb,  but  which  it  is  for  us 
to  reproduce,  so  far  as  we  can,  by  the  memory  of  the 
extent  to  which  we  once  admired  it,  and  of  the  strength 
wherewith  it  strengthened  us. 

And  there  is  yet  this  further  lesson  :  —  "  Where  was 
it  that  this  wisdom  was  found  ?  or  where  was  the  place 
of  this  wonderful  understanding  ?  "  It  was  on  a  throne 
where  experience  has  often  told  us  that  it  is  missing,  in 
a  place  where  we  are  often  cynically  warned  not  to  look 
for  it.  It  was  in  that  sacred  calling,  which,  by  the  very 
reason  of  its  sacredness,  is  exposed  more  than  the  other 
great  professions  of  our  country  to  the  fits  of  sudden 
fanaticism,  to  the  hurricanes  of  well-intentioned  panics, 
to  the  convulsions  of  blind  party-spirit.  It  was  on  the 
heights  of  that  Episcopal  order  which,  by  the  very  reason 


254 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


of  its  eminence,  often  becomes  the  prey  of  timid  coun- 
sels, unequal  measures,  and  narrow  experiences ;  but 
which,  when  worthily  occupied  and  worthily  used,  gives 
room  and  scope  as  no  other  office,  either  in  Church  or 
State,  to  the  exercise  of  that  width  of  view  and  impar- 
tiality of  judgment  of  which  the  "  wisdom  "  of  the  Bible 
is  the  Divine  expression. 

When  we  sometimes  hear  it  said  that  in  our  day  there 
are  fewer  attractions  for  the  nobler  intellects  and  the 
more  gifted  spirits  to  enter  the  sacred  ministry ;  when 
we  hear  it  regretfully  said  that  those  who  enter  often 
become  demoralized  in  their  highest  mental  aspirations 
by  taking  holy  orders  —  let  us  ask  what  was  the  experi- 
ence suggested  by  the  career  which  is  now  closed.  He 
had  been  destined  to  another  lofty  calling,  that  of  the 
Bar,  where,  if  anywhere,  some  of  his  most  peculiar  gifts 
might  have  had  the  fullest  development  and  gratified 
the  highest  ambition.  But  he  found  that  in  the  minis- 
trations of  the  Church  of  England  there  was  a  field  for 
a  yet  larger  development  of  his  moral  and  intellectual 
stature,  for  the  exercise  of  a  yet  nobler  ambition.  If 
from  any  cause  since  that  time  the  calling  of  an  English 
clergyman  has  become  less  congenial  to  such  characters, 
if  its  sphere  has  become  more  contracted,  if  the  diffi- 
culties placed  in  the  way  of  embarking  upon  it  have 
increased,  or  the  inducements  to  enter  upon  it  have  di- 
minished—  it  is  well  for  all  those  who  are  concerned 
to  look  to  it,  for  few  graver  evils  can  befall  a  Church, 
no  more  formidable  prospect  threaten  its  dignity  and  its 
usefulness.  And  as  we  so  regard  the  question,  let  us 
think  once  and  again  what  were  the  advantages  which 
he  brought  to  the  ministry  and  hierarchy  of  the  English 
Church,  and  what  were  the  advantages  which  it  offered 
to  him.  He  brought  to  it  the  assurance  that  in  the 
ranks  of  its  clergy  there  was  no  reason  why  the  love  of 


THE  KELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


255 


truth  and  of  learning  should  not  abound,  why  critical 
inquiry  should  not  pursue  its  onward  course,  why  the 
intellectual  and  spiritual  elements  of  Christianity  should 
not  constantly  prevail  over  those  which  are  material  and 
formal.  There  are  those  who  remember  that  when  he 
was  raised  by  a  courageous  statesman  to  a  seat  in  the 
English  Episcopate,  while  some  trembled  with  alarm  at 
the  entrance  of  this  bold  intruder,  as  he  was  deemed, 
others  confidently  predicted  that  this  intrusion,  if  so  it 
were,  would  give  to  the  Church  of  England  a  new  lease 
of  enduring  life.  Have  not  the  prophets  of  hope  been 
justified  in  their  anticipation  of  good,  ten  times  more 
than  the  prophets  of  fear  in  their  anticipations  of  evil? 
Are  there  any  now  from  one  end  of  the  Church  to 
the  other  who  are  not  proud  of  the  man  who  has  thus 
adorned  their  calling,  and  ennobled  the  career  of  the 
humblest  curate  of  the  most  secluded  hamlet?  Are 
there  any  who  do  not  feel  that  English  Christianity 
and  English  literature  would  have  been  the  poorer  if 
Connop  Thirlwall  had  become  a  mere  successful  lawyer, 
or  remained  a  mere  private  scholar,  instead  of  giving  by 
his  presence  in  the  Episcopate  an  example  and  a  guar- 
anty that  liberal  sentiment,  even-handed  justice,  free 
research,  had  their  proper  sphere  in  the  high  places  of 
our  Zion  ?  He  stood  not  alone  in  that  former  genera- 
tion of  noble  students,  in  those  days  which  "  they  that 
are  younger  now  have  in  their  derision."  Others  there 
were,  perhaps,  in  their  own  way,  as  gifted  as  he,  who 
certainly  left  a  deeper  and  wider  impress  on  the  writings 
and  the  actions  of  our  time,  and  who  were  less  restrained 
in  their  utterances  by  caution  or  reticence.  But  of  all 
that  memorable  band  who  found  their  natural  calling 
in  the  ministry  of  the  English  Church,  he  was  the  only 
one,  at  least  in  England,  who  mounted  to  its  highest 
ranks,  and  visibly  swayed  its  counsels.    That  long  and 


256 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


honored  existence  bids  us  not  to  despair  of  our  Church 
or  of  our  Faith ;  but  it  also  warns  us  to  keep  them  at 
least  on  the  same  level  that  made  his  presence  amongst 
us  possible.  It  may  be  that,  whatever  betides,  there 
will  always  be  an  inducement  for  the  simple  enthusiast, 
the  stirring  administrator,  the  eager  partisan,  the  zealous 
dogmatist,  to  take  his  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  evangel- 
ists or  pastors  of  the  Church.  But  if  there  are  to  be 
pillars  of  the  House  of  Wisdom  amongst  the  clergy  like 
to  him  that  is  gone,  there  must  be  something  more  than 
this ;  and  is  it  too  much  to  say  that  one  main  attraction, 
which  drew  him  and  like  characters  to  the  sacred  minis- 
try of  our  Church,  was  its  national  character,  and  there- 
fore comprehensive,  varied,  and  onward  destiny?  To 
nothing  short  of  this,  to  no  meaner  service,  beneath  the 
dogmatic  or  ceremonial  yoke  of  no  lesser  communion, 
would  the  giants  of  those  days  have  bowed  their  heads 
to  enter.  Other  advantages,  moral  or  material,  may  be 
furnished  by  the  separated,  disintegrated,  or  exclusively 
ecclesiastical  sects  or  churches  of  our  country.  Many 
are  the  excellent  gifts  possessed  by  our  Nonconformist 
brethren  which  we  lack,  and  perhaps  shall  always  lack. 
But  they  themselves  would  confess  with  us  that  such  as 
he  of  whom  we  speak  would  have  found,  and  could  have 
found,  no  abiding  place  in  their  ranks.  And  only,  or 
almost  only,  in  a  national  Church  —  where  the  perma- 
nent voice  of  the  nation,  and  not  only  a  fraction  of  it, 
takes  part  in  the  appointment  of  its  highest  officers  — 
was  such  an  appointment  possible,  or  at  least  probable, 
as  that  which  gave  to  us  the  prelate  whom  we  all  now 
alike  delight  to  honor,  and  mourn  to  lose. 

Such  was  the  public  career  of  him  whom  on  Tuesday 
next  we  are  to  lay  beneath  this  roof.  Some  perhaps 
will  lament,  with  a  natural  regret,  that  the  prelate  who, 
of  all  its  occupants,  has  most  conspicuously  adorned 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


257 


through  a  long  Episcopate  the  ancient  see  which  reaches 
back  to  the  earliest  beginnings  of  British  Christianity, 
should  not  have  found  his  last  resting-place  in  the  lone- 
liness and  grandeur  of  his  own  cathedral  of  St.  David's, 
in  the  romantic  solitude  of  that  secluded  sanctuary, 
beside  the  storm-vexed  promontory  that  overlooks  the 
western  sea.  But  it  was  also  a  natural  feeling,  in  which 
his  own  clergy  and  people  proudly  share,  that  one 
whose  fame  belonged  not  to  a  single  diocese,  but  to  the 
whole  Church  of  England  and  to  the  whole  world  of  let- 
ters, should  claim  his  rightful  place  amongst  the  schol- 
ars and  philosophers  of  our  country.  And  in  these  days 
of  doubt  and  rebuke  there  is  a  satisfaction  in  the  thought 
that  at  least  one  great  Churchman  by  general  consent 
found  his  way  into  the  innermost  circle  of  the  sages 
of  our  time ;  that,  on  the  one  hand,  there  was  at  least 
one  Greek  to  whose  lofty  intellect  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ  was  not  foolishness ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  at 
least  one  reverent  believer  to  whom  its  reasonable  ser- 
vice, its  philosophic  depth,  its  wide-reaching  charity,  its 
unadorned  simplicity,  were  not  stumbling-blocks. 

3.  And  this  brings  me  to  one  concluding  remark.  I 
have  hitherto  spoken  only  of  the  mental  grandeur  of  him 
whom  we  mourn.  It  is  this  chiefly  which  concerns  us 
on  this  occasion.  It  is  the  vindication  of  the  religious 
mission  only  of  learning  and  wisdom  that  I  have  thus 
briefly  put  before  you.  Yet  those  who  knew  the  man 
in  his  inner  life  knew  well  that  within  that  marble  in- 
tellect, behind  that  impassive  severity,  beneath  that 
ponderous  eloquence,  there  was  a  moral  fire  which 
warmed  and  fused  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the 
granite  mass  through  which  it  breathed.  That  was 
no  mean  sense  of  duty  which  constrained  him,  when 
in  middle  life  he  entered  on  the  Episcopate,  to  throw 
his  vast  linguistic  power  into  the  homely  and  perhaps 


258  THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


ungrateful  task  of  learning,  as  no  English  Bishop,  I  be- 
lieve, since  the  Conquest,  had  ever  learnt,  the  language 
of  his  Cambrian  diocese.  That  was  no  inconsiderable 
effort  of  moral  courage  and  farsighted  justice  which  led 
him  on  one  occasion  in  his  earlier  years  to  vindicate, 
amidst  obloquy  and  opposition,  the  solution  of  a  great 
academical 1  difficulty  which,  since  that  time,  all  have 
accepted ;  or,  on  another  occasion  in  his  later  years,  to 
vindicate  the  solution  of  a  great  ecclesiastical 2  difficulty 
which  all  modern  statesmen  had  abandoned,  but  which 
all  eminent  statesmen  of  a  former  generation  had  com- 
bined in  urging.  That  was  no  cold  or  callous  heart 
which  found  its  chief  earthly  comfort  in  the  faithful 
affection  of  those  who  grew  up  around  him  as  his  own 
children  and  grandchildren,  receiving  instruction  day 
by  day  from  the  boundless  stores  of  his  knowledge,  and 
attracted  by  his  paternal  care.  That  was  no  proud  or 
hard  spirit  which  lived  a  life  of  such  childlike  simpli- 
city, in  the  innocent  enjoyment  of  his  books  or  of  his 
dumb  creatures,  or  in  steady  obedience  to  the  frequent 
call  of  often  irksome  duty,  or  in  humbly  waiting  for  his 
heavenly  Master's  summons. 

It  was  an  undesigned  but  impressive  coincidence  that 
during  the  last  days  of  his  life  he  was  employing  his 
dark  and  vacant  hours  in  translating,  through  succes- 
sive dictations,  into  Latin,  Greek,  German,  Italian, 
Spanish,  French,  Welsh,  the  striking  apologue  which 
tells  us  that,  "  as  Sleep  is  the  brother  of  Death,  thou 
must  be  careful  to  commit  thyself  to  the  care  of  Him 
who  is  to  awaken  thee  both  from  the  Death  of  Sleep 
and  from  the  Sleep  of  Death,"  and  which  tells  us  fur- 
ther that  "  the  outward  occurrences  of  life,  whether 
prosperous  or  adverse,  have  no  more  effect  than  dreams 

1  The  admission  of  Dissenters  to  the  Universities. 

2  The  plan  of  Concurrent  Endowment  for  the  Irish  Churches. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  USE  OF  WISDOM. 


259 


on  our  real  condition,  since  virtue  alone  is  the  real  end 
and  enduring  good,"  These  words,  thus  rendered  with 
all  the  energy  of  his  unbroken  mind  into  those  seven 
languages,  contain,  by  hazard,  as  I  have  said,  yet  surely 
not  without  significance,  the  simple,  sublime  elements 
of  religion  —  the  two  conclusions  which,  not  only  in 
those  closing  hours,  but  in  the  fulness  of  his  life,  pene- 
trated his  reason  and  his  faith :  unwavering  reverence 
for  the  supreme  goodness  of  God,  unshaken  conviction 
of  the  true  grandeur  of  goodness  in  man.  Suddenly 
the  summons  came.  With  one  call  for  him  who  had 
been  as  his  own  son  on  earth ;  with  one  cry  to  his  Lord 
in  heaven,  Who  to  his  upward  gaze  seemed  yet  more 
visible  and  yet  more  near  —  he  passed,  as  we  humbly 
trust,  from  the  death  of  sleep,  and  from  the  sleep  of 
death,  to  the  presence  of  that  Light  in  which  he  shall 
see  light. 

"  Where  shall  wisdom  be  found  ?  and  where  is  the 
place  of  understanding  ?  " 

"  Behold,  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom,  and  to 
depart  from  evil  is  understanding." 1 

l  Job  xxviii.  28. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHI- 
TECTURE. 


March  30,  1878,  being  the  Sunday  after  the  burial  of  Sir  George  Gilbert 

Scott. 

/  was  glad  ivhen  they  said  unto  me,  Let  us  go  into  the  house  of  the 
Lord.  — Psalm  cxxiii.  1. 

"  The  house  of  the  Lord."  It  is  an  expression  which 
we  at  once  recognize  as  figurative.  "  Behold,  the  heaven 
of  heavens  cannot  contain  Thee ;  how  much  less  this 
house  that  I  have  builded  ! "  So  it  was  said  even  in 
the  Jewish  dispensation.  In  the  Christian  dispensation 
it  is  still  more  strongly  expressed  that  the  only  fitting 
temple  of  the  Most  High  is  the  sacred  human  conscience, 
or  the  community  of  good  men  throughout  the  world, 
or  that  vast  unseen  universe  which  is  the  true  taberna- 
cle, greater  and  more  perfect  than  any  made  by  hands. 
Nevertheless,  like  all  familiar  metaphors,  the  expression 
"  the  house  of  God "  has  a  deep  root  in  the  human 
heart  and  mind.  Our  idea  of  the  invisible  almost  inev~ 
itably  makes  for  itself  a  shell  or  husk  from  visible  things. 
This  is  the  germ  of  religious  architecture.  This  is  the 
reason  why  the  most  splendid  buildings  in  the  world 
have  been  temples  or  churches.  This  is  the  reason  why 
even  the  most  spiritual,  even  the  most  Puritanical,  reli- 
gion clothes  itself  with  the  drapery  not  only  of  words, 
and  sounds,  and  pictures,  but  of  wood,  and  stone,  and 
marble.  A  Friends'  meeting-house  is  as  really  a  house 
of  God,  and  therefore  as  decisive  a  testimony  to  the 

260 


RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  261 

sacredness  of  architecture,  as  the  most  magnificent 
cathedral.  The  barbaric  artificers  of  the  tabernacle  in 
the  desert  were  as  really  inspired  in  their  rude  manner, 
as  the  Tyrian  architects  of  the  temple  of  Solomon. 
Who  is  there  that  does  not  feel  a  glow  of  enthusiasm 
when  coming  back  after  long  absence  —  it  may  be  like 
him  who  addresses  you  to-day  —  or  long  illness,  he  finds 
himself  once  more  in  the  old  familiar,  venerable  sanc- 
tuary, which  has  become  the  home  of  his  affection,  the 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  his  country's  and  of  his  own 
hopes  and  duties?  Who  is  there  that  having  grown 
with  the  growth  and  strengthened  with  the  strength 
of  an  institution  like  this,  does  not  feel  that  it  is  part  of 
himself,  that  its  honor  or  dishonor  is  his  own  glory 
or  his  own  shame  ?  That  which  a  humorous  saying 
usually  ascribed  to  the  witty  Canon  1  of  a  neighboring 
cathedral,  treated  as  an  impossibility,  is  in  fact  the 
simple  truth.  We  who  live  under  the  hull  or  frame- 
work, the  vaults  or  the  dome  of  a  building  like  West- 
minster Abbey  or  St.  Paul's,  are  conscious  of  a  thrill 
of  satisfaction  when  the  hand  of  an  approving  public 
is  placed  on  our  outward  shell ;  a  thrill  which  penetrates 
to  our  inmost  souls,  because  we  within,  and  that  superb 
shell  without,  constitute  but  one  and  the  same  living 
creature.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  this  intimate  con- 
nection between  the  spiritual  and  the  material  temple, 
between  the  grandeur  of  religion  and  the  grandeur  of 
its  outward  habitation,  which  gives  a  living  interest 
to  the  thought  which  I  would  this  day  bring  before 

1  It  is  told  of  Sydney  Smith  that  he  once  said  to  a  child  who  thought 
that  it  was  pleasing  a  tortoise  by  stroking  the  shell,  "You  might  as 
well  hope  to  please  the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  by  patting  the 
dome."  (Memoirs  of  Sydney  Smith,  vol.  i.  324.)  It  would  seem,  how- 
ever, that  the  story  had  an  earlier  origin.  The  remark  was  made,  in 
the  first  instance,  or  at  least  simultaneously,  by  the  present  Sir  Fred- 
erick Pollock  to  his  brother. 


262    RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 

you  —  the  religious  aspect  of  the  noble  science  and  art 
of  the  architect.  We  yesterday  laid  within  these  walls 
the  most  famous  builder  of  this  generation.  Others 
may  have  soared  to  loftier  flights,  or  produced  special 
works  of  more  commanding  power ;  but  no  name  within 
the  last  thirty  years  has  been  so  widely  impressed  on 
the  edifices  of  Great  Britain,  past  and  present,  as  that 
of  Gilbert  Scott.  From  the  humble  but  graceful  cross, 
which  commemorates  at  Oxford  the  sacrifice  of  the  three 
martyrs  of  the  English  Reformation,  to  the  splendid 
memorial  of  the  Prince  who  devoted  his  life  to  the 
service  of  his  Queen  and  country;  from  the  Presby- 
terian University  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde,  to  the 
college  chapels  on  the  banks  of  the  Isis  and  the  Cam ; 
from  the  proudest  minster  to  the  most  retired  parish 
church;  from  India  to  Newfoundland  —  the  trace  has 
been  left  of  the  loving  eye  and  skilful  hand  that  are 
now  so  cold  in  death.  Truly  was  it  said  by  one,  who 
from  the  distant  shores  of  a  foreign  land  rendered  yes- 
terday his  sorrowing  tribute  of  respect,  that  in  nearly 
all  the  cathedrals  of  England  there  must  have  been  a 
shock  of  grief  when  the  tidings  came  of  the  sudden 
stroke  which  had  parted  them  from  him,  who  was  to 
them  as  their  own  familiar  friend  and  foster-father. 
Canterbury,  Ely,  Exeter,  Worcester,  Peterborough, 
Salisbury,  Hereford,  Lichfield,  Ripon,  Gloucester,  Man- 
chester, Chester,  Rochester,  Oxford,  Bangor,  St.  Asaph, 
St.  David's,  Windsor,  St.  Alban's,  Tewkesbury,  and  last, 
not  least,  our  own  Westminster,  in  which  he  took  most 
delight  of  all  buildings  in  all  the  world  —  are  the  silent 
mourners  round  the  grave  of  him  who  loved  their  very 
stones  and  dust,  and  knew  them  to  their  very  heart's 
core.  But  it  is  good  on  these  occasions  to  rise  above 
the  personal  feelings  of  the  moment  into  those  more 
general  lessons  which  his  career  suggests. 


RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  263 


I.  It  was  the  singular  fortune  of  that  career  that  it 
coincided  with  one  of  the  most  remarkable  revolutions 
of  taste  that  the  world  has  witnessed.  That  peculiar 
conception  of  architectural  beauty  which  our  ances- 
tors, in  blame  and  not  in  praise,  called  Gothic,  was 
altogether  unknown  to  Pagan  or  Christian  antiquity. 
It  was  unknown  alike  to  the  builders  of  the  Pyramids 
and  the  Parthenon,  to  the  builders  of  the  Roman  Basil- 
ica, and  the  Byzantine  Sta.  Sophia.  Born  partly  of 
Saracenic,  partly  of  German  parentage,  it  gradually 
won  its  way  to  perfection  by  the  mysterious  instinct 
which  breathed  through  Europe  in  the  Middle  Ages. 
It  flourished  for  four  centuries,  and  then  died  as  com- 
pletely as  if  it  had  never  existed.  Another  style  took 
its  place.  By  Catholic  and  Protestant  it  was  alike  repu- 
diated. By  the  hands  of  English  or  Scottish  prelates, 
no  less  than  of  English  or  Scottish  Reformers,  its  traces 
wherever  possible  were  obliterated.  Here  and  there  a 
momentary  thrill  of  admiration  was  rekindled  by  the 
high-embowed  roof,  or  by  the  stately  pillars  of  our 
ancient  churches,  as  in  the  "  Penseroso  "  of  Milton,  or 
in  the  "  Mourning  Bride  "  of  Congreve.  But  as  a  gen- 
eral rule  it  was  regarded  as  a  lost  art,  and  our  poets  of 
the  sixteenth  century  make  no  more  allusion  to  it  than 
if  they  had  been  born  and  bred  in  the  new  world  of 
America. 

Look  through  the  popular  writers  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the 
unconscious  exponents  of  the  sentiments  of  the  age  that  followed 
the  Reformation,  examine  the  writings  of  Spenser,  for  instance, 
and  Shakspeare,  the  many-sided,  to  whom  all  the  tones  of  thought 
of  all  ages  seem  to  have  been  revealed  and  familiarized,  of  Chap- 
man and  Marlow  and  the  rest,  and  I  question  whether  you  will  find 
a  line  or  a  word  in  any  one  of  them  indicating  the  slightest  sym- 
pathy with  the  sesthetics  of  ecclesiastical  architecture,  which  exer- 
cise'such  a  fascination  over  ourselves.  Not  one  line,  not  one  word, 
I  believe,  of  the  charms  of  cloistered  arcades  and  fretted  roofs,  and 


264    RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 

painted  windows,  and  the  dim  religious  light  of  the  pensive  poets 
of  our  later  ages.  No  wail  of  despair,  no  murmur  of  dissatisfac- 
tion reaches  us  from  the  generation  that  witnessed  the  dire  eclipse 
in  which  the  labor  of  so  many  ages  of  artistic  refinement  became 
involved.  Their  children  have  betrayed  to  us  no  remembrance 
of  the  stifled  sorrows  of  their  fathers.  As  far  as  regards  its  taste 
for  ecclesiastical  monuments,  the  literature  of  Elizabeth  might 
have  been  the  production  of  the  rude  colonists  of  the  Antilles  or 
of  Virginia.1 

Here  and  there  an  antiquarian,  like  Gostling  at  Can- 
terbury or  Carter  at  Westminster,  allowed  the  genius 
of  the  place  to  overpower  the  tendencies  of  the  age. 
And  if  a  protest  against  the  indiscriminate  disparage- 
ment of  mediaeval  art  came  at  last  from  Horace  Wal- 
pole,  it  was  more  in  deference  to  his  rank,  than  from 
conversion  to  his  sentiments,  that  the  authorities  in 
Church  and  State  consented  to  preserve  what  else  they 
would  have  doomed  to  destruction.  At  last  in  the 
first  half  of  this  century  a  new  eye  was  given  to  the 
mind  of  man.  Gradually,  imperfectly,  through  various 
channels  —  in  this  country  chiefly  through  the  minute 
observations  of  a  Quaker  student  —  the  visions  of  the 
strange  past  rose  before  a  newly  awakened  world.  The 
glory  and  the  grace  of  our  soaring  arches,  of  our  stained 
windows,  of  our  recumbent  effigies,  were  revealed,  as 
they  had  been  to  no  mortal  eyes  since  the  time  of  their 
erection.  To  imitate,  to  preserve  this  ancient  style  in 
its  remarkable  beauty  was  the  inevitable  consequence, 
we  might  say  the  overwhelming  temptation,  of  this  new 
discovery.  The  hour  was  come  when  the  ecclesiastical 
architecture  of  the  past  was  to  be  roused  from  its  long 
slumber,  and  with  the  hour  came  the  man.  We  do  not 
forget  that  splendid  if  eccentric  genius  who  gave  him- 
self, though  not  with  undivided  love,  to  the  service 

■ 

1  Sermon  preached  at  Harrow,  on  the  Founder's  Day,  Oct.  10,  1872, 
by  Charles  Merivale,  D.D.,  Dean  of  Ely. 


RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  265 

of  another  communion.  We  cannot  but  remember  the 
gifted  architect  who  raised  the  stately  halls  and  the 
commanding  towers  of  the  palace  of  the  imperial  legis- 
lature, and  who  was  laid  long  years  ago  —  in  fit  prox- 
imity to  his  own  great  works  —  within  these  walls, 
where  he  has  been  followed  by  him  of  whom  I  now 
would  speak.  For  there  was  one  who,  if  younger  in 
the  race,  and  at  the  time  less  conspicuous  than  either 
of  them,  was  destined  to  exercise  over  the  growth  of 
Gothic  architecture  in  this  country  a  yet  more  enduring 
and  extensive  influence. 

When  in  this  Abbey  the  first  note  of  that  revival  was 
struck  by  the  erection  of  Bernasconi's  plaster  canopies 
in  the  place  of  the  classic  altar-piece,  given  by  Queen 
Anne,1  a  boy  of  fourteen  years  old  was  in  the  church 
watching  the  demolition  and  the  reconstruction  with  a 
curious  vigilance,  which  from  that  time  never  flagged 
for  fifty  years.  That  was  the  earliest  reminiscence 
which  Gilbert  Scott  retained  of  Westminster  Abbey; 
that  was  the  first  inspiration  of  the  Gothic  revival 
which  swept  away  before  its  onward  progress  not  only 
the  plaster  reredos  of  this  Abbey,  but  a  thousand  other 
crudities  of  the  same  imperfect  period.  He  imperson- 
ated the  taste  of  the  age.  Antiquarian  no  less  than 
builder,  he  became  to  those  fossils  of  mediaeval  architect- 
ure what  Cuvier  and  Owen  have  been  to  the  fossils 
of  the  earlier  world  of  nature.  It  may  be  that  others 
will  follow  on  whom  the  marvellous  bounty  of  Provi- 
dence shall  bestow  other  gifts  of  other  kinds.  But 
meanwhile  we  bless  God  for  what  we  have  had  in  our 
departed  friend  and  his  fellow-workers.  The  recovery, 
the  second  birth,  of  Gothic  architecture,  is  a  striking 
proof  that  the  human  mind  is  not  dead,  nor  the  creative 
power  of  our  Maker  slackened.    We  bless  alike  the 

1  Memorials  of  Westminster  Abbey,  p. -530. 


266    RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 

power  which  breathed  this  inspiration  into  the  men 
of  old,  and  that  which  even  from  their  dry  bones  has 
breathed  it  once  again  into  the  men  of  these  latter 
days. 

II.  But  it  is  not  enough  to  rejoice  that  a  great  gift  is 
resuscitated  or  a  great  style  imitated.  We  must  ask 
wherein  its  greatness  consisted,  and  in  what  relation 
it  stood  to  the  other  gifts  of  the  Creator.  There  are 
many  characteristics  of  the  mediaeval  architecture,  as 
of  the  mediaeval  mind,  which  have  totally  perished,  or 
which  ought  never  to  be  revived ;  which  represent  ideas 
that  for  our  time  have  lost  all  significance,  and  pur- 
poses which  are  doomed  to  extinction.  The  Middle 
Ages  have  left  on  the  intellect  of  Europe  few,  very  few, 
enduring  traces.  Their  chronicles  are  but  the  quarries 
of  later  historians ;  their  schoolmen  are  but  the  extinct 
species  of  a  dead  theology.  Two  great  poems  and  one 
book  of  devotion  are  all  which  that  long  period  has  be- 
queathed to  the  universal  literature  of  mankind.  But 
their  architecture  still  remains 

"  Of  equal  date 
With  Andes  and  with  Ararat," 1 

and  the  reason  of  this  continuance  or  revival  is  this, 
that  in  its  essential  features  it  represented  those  aspira- 
tions of  religion  which  are  eternal.  As  in  mediaeval 
Christianity  there  were  elements  which  belonged  to  the 
undeveloped  Protestantism  of  the  Western  Churches,  so 
also  in  mediaeval  architecture  there  are  elements  which 
belong  to  the  churches  of  the  Reformation  as  well  as  to 
the  churches  of  the  Papal  system.  Its  massive  solidity, 
its  aspiring  height,  its  infinite  space,  these  belong  not 
to  the  tawdry,  trivial,  minute,  material  side  of  religion, 
but  to  its  sobriety,  its  grandeur,  its  breadth,  its  sublim- 

1  Emerson. 


EELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  267 

ity.  And  therefore  it  was  that  when  this  revival  of 
Gothic  architecture  took  place,  it  was  amongst  the 
Protestant  churches  of  England,  rather  than  in  the 
Catholic  churches  of  the  Continent,  that  its  first  growth 
struck  root.  The  religious  power  of  our  great  cathe- 
drals has,  as  has  been  well  remarked,1  not  lost,  but 
gained,  in  proportion  as  our  worship  has  become  more 
solemn,  more  simple,  more  reverential,  more  compre- 
hensive. There  is  a  cloud  of  superstition  doubtless 
which,  with  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
has  settled  down  over  a  large  part  of  the  ecclesiastical 
world ;  but  the  last  places  which  it  will  reach  will  be 
the  magnificent  architectural  monuments  which  defy 
the  introduction  of  trivial  and  mean  decorations,  or,  if 
introduced,  condemn  them  for  their  evident  incongruity 
with  other  portions  of  the  buildings.  The  great  anti- 
quaries, the  great  architects  of  this  century,  are  but  too 
well  acquainted  with  the  differences  between  the  loftier 
and  the  baser  aspects,  between  the  golden  and  the  copper 
sides  of  their  noble  art,  to  allow  it  to  become  the  hand- 
maid of  a  sect  or  party,  or  the  instrument  of  a  senseless 
proselytism. 

III.  And  this  leads  me  to  one  more  point  of  the  mar- 
vellous revival  of  which  he  who  lies  in  yonder  grave 
was  the  pioneer  and  champion.  For  the  first,  or  almost 
for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  archi- 
tecture of  the  nineteenth  century  betook  itself,  not  to 
the  creation  of  a  new  style,  but  to  the  preservation  and 
imitation  of  an  older  style.  With  perhaps  one  excep- 
tion,2 every  age  and  country  down  to  our  own  has  set 
its  face  towards  superseding  the  works  of  its  predeces- 

1  Dean  Milman's  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  vi.  p.  91. 

2  The  continuance  of  the  Pharaonic  style  in  Egypt  under  the  Ptole- 
maic princes  and  Roman  emperors.  There  are  also  a  few  examples  in 
Mediaeval  Architecture,  such  as  the  completion  of  the  nave  of  West- 
minster Abbey.  —  See  Memorials  of  Westminster  Abbey,  chap.  iii. 


268    RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 

sors,  by  erecting  its  own  work  in  their  place.  The 
Normans  overthrew  the  old  Romanesque  churches  of 
the  Saxons.  Henry  III.  in  this  place  "totally  swept 
away,  as  of  no  value  whatever,"  the  noble  Abbey  of 
the  Confessor.  Henry  VII.  built  his  stately  Chapel  in 
marked  contrast  to  all  the  other  portions  of  this  build- 
ing. The  great  architects  of  the  cathedrals  of  St.  Peter 
at  Rome,  and  St.  Paul  in  London,  adopted  a  style  vary- 
ing as  widely  from  the  mediaeval,  which  they  despised, 
as  from  the  Grecian,  which  they  admired.  But  now, 
in  our  own  time,  the  whole  genius  of  the  age  threw  all 
its  energies  into  the  reproduction  of  what  had  been, 
rather  than  into  the  production  of  what  was  to  be.  No 
doubt  it  may  be  said  that  there  is,  in  the  original  genius 
which  creates,  something  more  stimulating  and  inspir- 
ing. Yet  still  the  very  eagerness  of  reproduction  is 
itself  an  original  inspiration,  and  there  is  in  it  also  a 
peculiar  grace  which,  to  the  illustrious  departed,  was 
singularly  congenial.  If  one  had  sought  for  a  man  to 
carry  out  this  awe-striking  retrospect  through  the  great 
works  of  old,  to  gather  up  the  fragments  of  perishing 
antiquity,  it  would  have  been  one  whose  inborn  mod- 
esty used  to  call  the  color  into  his  face  at  every  word 
of  praise,  whose  reverential  attitude  led  him  instinc- 
tively to  understand  and  to  admire.  And  yet  in  him 
this  very  tendency,  especially  in  his  maturer  age,  took 
so  large  and  generous  a  sweep  as  to  counteract  the 
excesses  into  which,  in  minds  less  expansive  and  less 
vigorous,  it  is  sure  to  fall.  Because  the  bent  of  his  own 
character  and  of  his  own  time  led  chiefly  to  the  restora- 
tion of  mediaeval  art,  he  was  not  on  that  account  insen- 
sible to  the  merits  of  the  ages  which  had  gone  before,  or 
which  had  succeeded.  With  that  narrow  and  exclusive 
pedantry  which  would  fain  sweep  out  from  this  and 
other  like  buildings  all  the  monuments  and  memorials 


RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  269 

of  the  last  three  centuries,  he  had  little  or  no  sympathy. 
He  regarded  thein  as  footprints  of  the  onward  march  of 
English  history,  and  whilst  feeling  a  natural  regret  for 
the  inroads  which  here  and  there  they  had  made  into 
the  earlier  glories  of  the  Plantagenet  and  Tudor  archi- 
tecture, and  willing  to  prune  their  disproportionate 
encroachments,  he  cherished  their  associations  as  ten- 
derly as  though  they  had  been  his  own  creations,  and 
would  bestow  his  meed  of  admiration  as  freely  on  the 
modern  memorial  of  Isaac  Watts  as  on  the  antique 
effigy  of  a  crusading  prince  or  a  Benedictine  abbot.  It 
was  this  loving,  yet  comprehensive  care  for  all  the  hete- 
rogeneous elements  of  the  past,  this  anxious,  unselfish 
attention  to  all  their  multifarious  details,  which  made 
him  so  wise  a  counsellor,  so  delightful  a  companion,  in 
the  great  work  of  the  reparation,  the  conservation,  the 
glorification  of  this  building,  which,  amidst  his  absorb- 
ing and  ubiquitous  duties,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  was 
his  first  love,  his  chief,  his  last,  his  enduring  interest. 

Such  is  the  loss  which  the  whole  Church  and  country 
deplore,  but  which  we  of  this  place  mourn  most  of  all. 
We  cannot  forget  him.  Roof  and  wall,  chapter-house 
and  cloister,  the  tombs  of  the  dead  and  the  worship  of 
the  living,  all  speak  of  him  to  those  who  know  that  his 
hand  and  his  eye  were  everywhere  amongst  us.  But 
these  very  trophies  of  what  he  did  for  us  must  render 
us  more  alive  to  do  what  we  can  for  him.  His  memory 
must  stimulate  us  who  remain  to  carry  on  with  unabated 
zeal  those  works  in  which  he  took  so  deep  a  concern : 
the  completion  of  the  Chapter-house  by  its  long-prom- 
ised and  long-delayed  windows  of  stained  glass ;  the 
northern  porch,  which  he  desired  above  all  things  to  see 
restored  to  its  pristine  beauty ;  the  new  cloister,  which 
he  had  planned  in  all  its  completeness  as  the  link  for 
another  thousand  years  between  the  illustrious  dead  of 


270    KELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  AECHITECTURE. 

the  generations  of  the  past,  and  those  of  the  generations 
of  the  future.  So  long  as  these  remain  unfinished,  his 
grave  will  continue  to  reproach  us.  When  they  shall 
he  accomplished,  they  will  be  amongst  the  noblest  monu- 
ments of  him  whose  ambition  for  his  glorious  art  was  so 
far-reaching,  and  whose  ideas  of  what  was  due  to  this 
national  sanctuary  were  so  exacting. 

IV.  But  there  is  yet  a  more  sacred  and  solemn 
thought  which  attaches  to  the  immediate  remembrance 
of  so  faithful  a  servant  of  this  State  of  England,  of  so 
honored  a  friend  of  this  church  of  Westminster. 

It  has  been  sometimes  said  that  it  was  by  a  strange 
irony  of  fate  that  the  great  leader  in  the  revival  of 
mediaeval  architecture  should  have  been  the  grandson 
of  that  venerable  commentator  who  belonged  to  the  re- 
vival of  evangelical  religion.  Yet  in  fact,  from  another 
point  of  view,  it  was  a  fitting  continuity.  It  is  always 
useful  to  be  reminded  that  the  revival,  or,  as  we  may 
better  put  it,  the  increase,  of  sincere  English  religion, 
belongs  to  a  generation  and  a  tendency  long  anterior  to 
the  multiplication  of  those  external  signs  and  symbols 
of  which  our  age  has  made  so  much ;  and  in  the  deep 
sense  of  that  inward  religion,  that  simple  faith  in  the 
Great  Unseen,  the  grandson  who  multiplied  and  dis- 
closed the  secrets  of  the  visible  sanctuaries  of  God 
throughout  the  land,  was  not  an  unworthy  descendant 
of  the  grandfather  who  endeavored,  according  to  the 
light  of  his  time,  to  draw  forth  the  mysteries  of  the 
Book  of  books.  We  in  this  place,  who  knew  him  and 
valued  him,  who  leant  upon  him  as  a  tower  of  strength 
in  our  difficulties,  who  honored  his  indefatigable  indus- 
try, his  childlike  humility,  his  unvarying  courtesy,  his 
noble  candor,  we  who  remember  with  gratitude  his  gen- 
erous encouragement  of  the  students  of  the  rising  gener- 
ation, who  know  how  he  loved  and  valued  the  best  that 


RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  271 


we  also  have  loved  and  valued  —  we  all  feel  that  in  him 
we  have  lost  one  of  those  just,  gentle,  guileless  souls  who 
in  their  lives  have  lifted,  and  in  their  memories  may  still 
lift,  our  souls  upwards.  And  when  we  speak  of  the  work 
which  such  a  career  bequeaths  to  those  that  remain,  let 
us  remember  that  although,  as  we  said  at  the  beginning 
of  this  discourse,  the  shell,  the  framework,  of  a  great 
building  like  this,  is  an  inestimable  gift  of  God,  its  crea- 
tion and  preservation  one  of  the  noblest  functions  of 
human  genius  and  national  enterprise,  yet  on  us  who 
dwell  within  it,  to  whose  charge  it  is  committed,  de- 
pends in  no  slight  manner  its  continuance  for  the  future, 
its  glory  and  its  usefulness  for  the  present.  There  are 
some  eager  spirits  of  our  time,  in  whom  the  noble  pas- 
sion for  reform  and  improvement  has  been  stifled  and 
suspended  by  the  ignoble  passion  for  destruction,  who 
have  openly  avowed  their  desire  to  suppress  all  the 
expressions  of  worship  or  of  teaching  within  this  or  like 
edifices,  and  keep  them  only  as  dead  memorials  of  the 
past  —  better  silent  with  the  solitude  of  Tintern  or  of 
Melrose,  than  thronged  with  vast  congregations  or  re- 
sounding with  the  music  of  the  psalmist  or  the  voice 
of  the  preacher.  It  is  for  us  so  to  fulfil  our  several 
duties,  so  to  people  this  noble  sanctuary  with  living 
deeds  and  words  of  goodness  and  of  wisdom,  that  such 
dreams  of  the  destroyer  may  find  no  place  to  enter,  no 
shelter  or  excuse  from  our  neglect  or  ignorance  or  folly. 
The  grave  of  our  great  architect  is  close  beside  the 
pulpit  which  he  erected  to  commemorate  the  earliest 
establishment  of  services  and  of  sermons  in  the  nave, 
which  then  for  the  first  time  were  set  on  foot  by  my 
predecessor,  and  which  have  since  spread  throughout 
the  whole  country.  That  reminds  us  of  the  kind  of 
support  which  we,  the  guardians  and  occupants  of  abbeys 
and  cathedrals,  can  give  even  to  their  outward  fabric. 


272    RELIGIOUS  ASPECT  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE. 

It  has  been  well  said  by  a  gifted  author,  who,  if  any  of 
his  time,  has  been  devoted  to  the  passionate  love  of  art, 
that  in  the  day  of  trial  it  will  be  said  even  in  those 
magnificent  buildings,  not  "  See  what  manner  of  stones 
are  here,"  but  "  See  what  manner  of  men." 1  Clergy, 
lay-clerks,  choristers,  teachers,  scholars,  vergers,  guides, 
almsmen,  workmen  —  yes,  and  all  you  who  frequent  this 
church  —  every  one  of  us  may  have  it  in  our  power  to 
support  it,  by  our  reverence  and  devotion,  by  our  eager- 
ness to  profit  by  what  we  hear,  by  our  sincere  wish  to 
give  the  best  that  we  can  in  teaching  and  preaching,  by 
our  honest  and  careful  fulfilment  of  the  duties  of  each 
day's  work,  by  our  scrupulous  care  to  avoid  all  that  can 
give  needless  annoyance  or  offence,  by  our  constancy 
and  belief,  by  our  rising  above  all  paltry  disputes  and 
all  vulgar  vices.  In  the  presence  of  this  great  institu- 
tion of  which  we  are  all  members,  and  in  the  presence 
of  the  Most  High  God,  whom  it  recalls  to  our  thoughts, 
and  in  whose  presence  we  are,  equally  within  its  walls 
and  without  them  —  every  one  of  us  has  it  in  his  power 
to  increase  the  glory,  to  strengthen  the  stability,  to 
insure  the  perpetuity  of  this  abbey.  That  is  the  best 
memorial  we  can  raise,  that  is  the  best  service  we  can 
render,  to  all  those,  dead  or  living,  who  have  loved,  or 
who  still  love,  tins  holy  and  beautiful  house,  wherein 
our  fathers  worshipped  in  the  generations  of  the  past, 
and  wherein,  if  we  be  but  true  to  its  glorious  mission, 
our  children  and  our  children's  children  shall  worship 
in  the  generations  that  are  yet  to  come. 

1  Ruskin's  Lectures  on  Art,  p.  118. 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


December  22,  1878. 

She  that  hath  borne  seven  languisheth ;  she  hath  given  up  the  ghost ; 
her  sun  hath  gone  down  while  it  teas  yet  day.  — Jeremiah  xv.  9. 

It  is  impossible  for  me,  in  this  ancient  sanctuary  of 
the  joys  and  sorrows  of  English  Princes,  not  to  say  a 
few  words  on  the  mournful  event  which,  since  I  last 
entered  these  walls,  has  cast  another  and  a  deeper 
shadow  on  the  day  already  thrice  linked  with  the  lives 
and  deaths  of  the  Royal  House.  Even  as  a  domestic 
calamity  in  a  private  family  it  would  strike  a  pang 
through  many  hearts  to  hear  of  a  husband  suddenly 
left  desolate  —  himself  hardly  rescued  from  the  gates 
of  death  ;  the  seven  children,  of  whom  we  are  reminded, 
in  the  words  of  the  English  poet,  that,  though  two 
of  them  had  gone  before  to  their  rest,  they  "  still  are 
seven ; "  the  wife  and  mother  falling  a  victim  to  her 
vigilant  care  for  those  she  loved,  the  sudden  termina- 
tion of  a  brilliant  career  in  the  midst  of  unclouded 
brightness  —  these  thoughts  combine  to  make  this  event 
almost  literally  a  reproduction  of  the  grief  which  the 
prophet  selected  as  the  type  of  the  heaviest  misfortune. 
But  there  is  a  sense  in  which  even  the  cynical  critic 
will  acknowledge  that  this  private  sorrow  bears  some- 
thing of  a  national  aspect ;  and  therefore  on  this  occa- 
sion, as  we  take  a  last  look  at  the  sepulchre  which  has 
closed  on  so  much  happiness  and  usefulness ;  on  this 
day  —  when  the  shadow  of  mourning  still  rests,  not 

273 


274  THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 

only  on  the  British  Isles,  but  on  the  remotest  extremi- 
ties of  the  earth  where  the  English  language  is  spoken ; 
even  amongst  the  children  of  that  New  England  be- 
yond the  sea,  now  parted  from  the  English  Crown,  but 
mingling  their  sympathy  for  that  Crown  while  they 
celebrate,  as  it  happens  on  this  day,  their  own  national 
birthright  —  it  may  not  be  unfitting  to  ask  what  per- 
manent lessons  we  here  may  carry  away  with  us  from 
the  event  which  has  left  so  deep  an  impression  on  palace 
and  cottage,  abroad  and  at  home,  wherever  the  tidings 
have  reached. 

The  lesson  which  we  may  carry  away  is  two-fold. 
The  first  is  a  homely  lesson,  but  not  unimportant  for 
us  to  remember,  the  universality  and  identity  of  human 
suffering  and  human  affection.  "We  all  feel  this  shock, 
because  we  all  know  what  it  is.  We  know  that  the 
mourners  in  this  case  are  mourners  like  the  mother, 
husband,  and  children  in  every  household  throughout 
the  land.  We  know  that  the  tears  which  flow  from 
them,  and  for  them,  flow  from  the  same  fountain  of 
grief  that  exists  in  every  human  heart.  We  know  that 
the  parental  love  which  ended  in  this  heart-stirring 
world-felt  sorrow  is  the  same  which  sustains  the  home 
of  every  private  circle.  When  we  hear  the  funereal 
music  ;  when  we  read  of  the  solemn  service  over  the 
dead;  when  we  see  rival  statesmen  suspending  their 
fierce  strife  for  a  moment  in  order  to  render  their 
touching  tribute  to  the  self-sacrificing  love  of  a  mother 
for  her  child,  or  the  simple,  manly  affection  of  a  brother 
to  a  much  loved  sister  ;  we  are  touched  with  the  depth 
and  the  grandeur  of  those  pure  domestic  feelings  of 
which  we  sometimes  think  too  little,  but  which,  at  such 
moments  as  this,  we  acknowledge  to  be  the  very  life- 
blood  of  families  and  of  nations.  Every  man,  woman, 
and  child,  as  they  feel  for  the  untimely  loss  of  this  de- 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


275 


voted  parent,  faithful  sister,  and  affectionate  daughter, 
may  well  be  reminded  that  they,  each  in  their  place, 
can  be  and  ought  to  be  what  she  was.  The  more  we 
recollect  that  circle  of  good  children,  to  whose  culture 
and  education  so  much  care  was  given  by  her  whom 
they  have  lost,  so  much  more  each  of  us  should  feel  the 
responsibility  of  the  burden  which  every  parent  bears 
in  the  little  souls  that  God  has  intrusted  to  our  keep- 
ing. The  more  we  learn  of  the  elevating  and  softening 
effect  which  sorrow  had  already  wrought  on  the  mind 
and  heart  of  the  mother  mourning  over  her  dear  first 
lost  child,  so  much  the  more  should  we  each  of  us  know 
that  through  the  dark  hours  of  bereavement  and  mis- 
fortune an  unseen  hand  may  be  leading  us  upwards  to 
some  higher  and  wider  life.  Our  Christmas  homes  will 
not  be  the  less  happy  if  they  are  lightened  with  the 
holy  thought  that  our  permanent  home  is  not  here ; 
and  that  there  is  a  brighter  and  better  world  even 
than  the  brightest  and  the  best  that  we  have  known 
on  earth. 

There  is  another  lesson.  I  have  hitherto  spoken  of 
that  experience  which  is  common  to  all  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  men  ;  but  the  very  fact  that  this  domestic 
grief  is  a  likeness  of  that  which  befalls  us  all,  reminds 
us  that  there  is  another  class  of  reflections  aroused,  not 
by  the  equalities  but  by  the  inequalities  and  varieties 
of  the  human  race.  It  is  one  striking  result  of  the  cre- 
ation and  growth  of  those  high  offices  which  break  the 
level  monotony  of  human  existence  that  they  bring 
before  us  common  things  and  common  feelings  in  a 
concentrated,  personal,  and  yet  public  form.  A  Royal 
personage  or  an  exalted  character  is  —  we  none  of  us 
need  to  be  told  it  —  one  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood 
as  ourselves.  But  the  fact  that  by  historical  tradition, 
and  by  the  inextinguishable  sentiment  of  mankind, 


276 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


they  are  necessarily  marked  out  from  their  fellow-men, 
gives  to  all  that  they  do  or  suffer  a  power  for  good  or 
a  power  for  evil  beyond  that  which  belongs  to  those 
who  hive  and  die  imknown.  The  "  mute,  inglorious 
Miltons,"  the  undeveloped  Plantagenets,  Cromwells,  or 
Washingtons  in  our  country  churchyards  may  have 
been,  in  themselves,  as  precious  in  the  sight  of  God, 
and  as  excellent  in  their  dealings  with  their  neighbors, 
as  the  greatest  and  most  favored  of  mankind.  But 
Providence  has  so  ordered  it  that  conspicuous  eminence 
is  and  can  be  given  only  to  a  few ;  and  those  few  who 
stand  on  their  eminences  are  as  a  city  set  upon  a  hill. 

"  That  fierce  light  which  beats  upon  a  Throne  " 

reveals  lessons  and  gives  opportunities  which  escape 
notice  in  the  homelier  or  obscurer  corners  of  the  life 
of  men.  This  is  the  second  lesson  conveyed  to  us  by 
the  event  which  we  are  now  considering.  It  was  not 
only  that  she  who  is  gone  discharged  those  ordinary 
duties  which  belong  to  every  wife  and  mother,  but  that 
she  was  aware  of  the  moral  power  and  of  the  large 
responsibility  with  which  her  high  position  of  neces- 
sity invested  her.  The  active  kindness,  the  gracious 
attention,  the  wise  interest  in  benevolent  objects  which 
would  be  useful  in  every  one  were,  as  she  well  knew, 
intensified  in  usefulness  by  coming  from  one  in  her 
place.  Her  rank,  her  name,  were  used  by  her  not  for 
purposes  of  selfish  indulgence  or  pleasure,  but  for  be- 
neficence and  enlightenment.  Those  external  advan- 
tages were,  as  she  felt,  special  talents  committed  to  her 
trust  for  the  good  of  mankind ;  and  as  such  she  used 
them.  It  is  this  use  —  this  good  use  —  of  the  talents 
committed  to  each  of  us  that  we  would  now  urge  on 
all.  We  do  not  need  to  be  of  Regal  rank,  or  to  pos- 
sess a  world-wide  fame,  to  have  special  opportunities 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


277 


intrusted  to  us.  Nor  do  Regal  rank  or  world-wide 
fame  insure  that  such  opportunities  shall  be  rightly 
used.  But  wherever,  and  in  proportion  as,  they  are 
not  used,  every  institution,  or  rank,  or  place,  which  fur- 
nishes them,  loses  one  large  part  of  the  object  for  which, 
in  the  order  of  Providence,  it  exists ;  and  wherever, 
and  in  proportion  as,  these  opportunities  and  talents 
are  used,  there  not  only  is  the  welfare  of  society  in- 
creased, but  the  existence  of  the  institutions  themselves 
is  justified ;  because  it  then  becomes  apparent  that  they 
are  the  vantage  grounds,  without  which  the  benevolent 
intentions  and  the  beneficent  works  of  individuals  would 
often  lose  the  fulcrum  and  the  stimulus  which  every 
effort  for  good  in  this  difficult  world  so  much  needs. 
Those  who,  in  any  important  station,  fulfil  the  duties 
of  that  station  well ;  those  who  make  it  a  matter  of 
conscience  to  reward  unquestionable  merit  and  to  ad- 
vance the  obscure  deserving ;  those  who  make  a  stand 
against  an  evil  fashion,  or  a  selfish  luxury,  or  the  de- 
graded vices  of  our  age,  not  only  render  a  service  to 
their  immediate  generation,  but  they  render  a  still 
more  enduring  service  to  the  generations  that  are  yet 
to  come  by  helping  to  preserve  the  institutions  which 
shall,  in  future  times,  be  the  standing  ground  whence 
others  may  diffuse  like  benefits  hereafter.  Those,  on 
the  other  hand,  who  in  important  stations  see  only  the 
means  of  encouraging  low  tastes,  foolish  fashions,  miser- 
able aims ;  who  abuse  their  power  of  trust  and  patron- 
age, or  live  a  life  of  selfish  ease,  as  if  there  were  none 
to  care  for  but  themselves  —  these,  in  proportion  as 
they  do  this,  are  not  only  useless  or  mischievous  in 
their  own  time,  but  are  traitors  to  their  country  and 
destroyers  of  its  future  hopes.  Those  who,  in  whatever 
station,  high  or  low,  make  use  of  their  spare  moments 
or  their  peculiar  gifts  and  graces  to  diffuse  light  and 


278 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


happiness  in  their  immediate  neighborhood,  are  walking 
in  the  steps  of  the  most  princely  benefactors  of  man- 
kind, simply  because  they  are  employing  to  the  utter- 
most the  gifts  that  God  has  lent  to  them.  There  is  a 
saying  of  our  Lord  not  recorded  in  the  four  Gospels, 
but  full  of  meaning  —  "  Be  ye  trustworthy  bankers  ;  be 
ye  like  banks  that  will  not  fail."  If  this  sacred  say- 
ing falls  with  a  keener  edge  on  the  ears  of  those  who, 
during  the  last  few  months  or  weeks,  have  watched  the 
wide-spreading  calamities  that  have  flowed  from  the 
want  of  giving  heed  to  this  solemn  duty  in  its  most 
literal  sense,  yet  none  the  less  is  the  saying  always  true 
in  that  more  extended  meaning,  in  which  doubtless  it 
first  was  used.  "  Be  ye  trustworthy  guardians ;  "  such 
must  have  been  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  — "Be  trust- 
worthy guardians  of  the  sacred  trust  of  the  time,  the 
health,  the  influence,  and  the  rank  committed  to  you." 
Give  to  every  effort  for  good  that  wider  usefulness 
which  your  position  can  furnish.  Sift,  test,  discrim- 
inate every  plan  or  purpose  or  part  intrusted  to  your 
keeping.  Forget  not  the  gracious  smile,  the  generous 
word  of  compassion  which  comes  with  so  much  larger 
power  if  it  proceeds  from  those  who  are  in  any  way 
raised  above  their  fellows.  Grudge  not  the  cheering 
welcome,  the  hearty  laugh,  the  delightful  encourage- 
ment which  the  feeble  or  the  helpless  so  doubly  value 
from  the  stronger,  or  the  younger  from  the  elder  —  or, 
it  may  even  sometimes  be,  the  elder  from  the  younger ; 
which  matured  genius  or  saintly  wisdom  can  bestow  on 
the  struggling  inquirer  or  the  returning  penitent.  So 
let  us  labor ;  and  then,  though  we  also  perchance  may 
pass  away  in  the  prime  of  our  existence,  though  our 
sun  may  go  down  while  it  is  yet  day,  yet  "  honorable 
age  is  not  that  which  standeth  in  length  of  time,  nor 
that  which  is  reserved  for  length  of  years."    He  or  she 


THE  LATE  PRINCESS  ALICE. 


279 


who  pleases  God,  and  is  "beloved  of  Him,  .  .  .  being 
made  perfect  in  a  short  time,  has  fulfilled  a  long  time." 1 
This  day  is  the  turn  of  the  year,  when  the  days  begin 
to  lengthen,  when  the  darkness  begins  to  shrink,  and 
the  light  begins  to  spread.  May  it  be  so  with  the 
mourners  for  whom  the  darkest  hour  has  passed  !  May 
it  be  so  with  the  distress  and  perplexities  of  sufferers 
throughout  our  land  at  this  trying  season !  May  we, 
each  and  all  of  us,  learn  to  rejoice  always  as  we  cherish 
the  glimpses  of  a  better  world  which  come  to  us,  at 
least,  through  these  two  lessons  on  which  we  have 
endeavored  to  dwell  —  the  sacredness,  the  everlasting 
sacredness,  of  human  affections  ;  and  the  sacredness  of 
opportunities  for  public  duty  and  private  kindness  ! 

1  Wisdom  of  Solomon,  iv.  8-13. 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


July  6,  1879,  being  the  Funeral  Sermon  of  Lord  Lawrence,  late  Gov- 
ernor-General of  India. 

Be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage :  for  unto  this  people  slialt  thou 
divide  for  an  inheritance  the  land  which  I  sware  unto  their  fathers  to 
give  them.  Only  be  thou  strong  and  very  courageous,  that  thou  mayest 
observe  to  do  according  to  all  the  law,  which  Moses  My  servant  com- 
manded thee:  turn  not  from  it  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  that  thou 
7iiayest  prosper  whithersoever  thou  goest.  — Joshua  i.  6,  7. 

There  are  few  more  saddening  experiences  of  human 
life  than  the  sight  of  great  opportunities  offered  and 
lost,  of  characters  suddenly  breaking  down,  of  the  ruin 
effected  by  want  of  vigilance  and  firmness.  "We  look 
back  over  the  fields  of  history ;  we  see  what  the  actors 
of  those  events  could  not  see,  or  only  saw  imperfectly ; 
how  on  the  weakness  and  the  wavering  of  men  who 
knew  not  what  depended  on  their  efforts  all  depended, 
and  all  was  lost.  We  see,  in  times  past  and  present, 
the  calm  before  the  tempest,  when  reform  was  still 
possible  and  revolution  might  still  have  been  averted. 
We  see  in  great  political  and  ecclesiastical  emergencies 
how  truly  it  has  been  said  that  the  timidity  of  the 
horse  which  will  not  leave  his  stable  lest  he  should  run 
into  the  fire,  is  as  dangerous  as  the  rashness  of  the 
moth  which  flies  into  it.  We  see  how  the  moral 
cowardice  of  those  who  shrink  from  responsibility  is 
often  more  calamitous  than  the  physical  cowardice 
which  shrinks  from  pain  and  death.    We  see  the  panic 

280 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


281 


in  armies,  when  the  boldest  lose  their  heads,  and,  from 
some  bewilderment  and  confusion,  precious  lives  or 
noble  causes  are  thrown  away.  We  see  in  churches 
the  waste  of  days,  and  weeks,  and  years  in  discussion 
on  the  most  trivial  questions,  whilst  the  weightier  con- 
siderations of  removing  stumbling-blocks,  and  enlar- 
ging liberty,  and  strengthening  the  mental  and  moral 
resources  of  the  whole  institution,  are  passed  by  as 
though  they  did  not  exist.  "We  see  in  the  cases  of 
individuals  a  splendid  birthright,  a  great  position,  a 
new  opening  of  life  coming  into  view.  We  see  how  in 
some  religious  experience,  such  as  a  confirmation  and 
first  communion,  or  a  fresh  awakening  of  serious 
thoughts,  a  crisis  comes  that  might  change  the  whole 
character  of  the  man  and  the  boy,  that  might  develop 
his  usefulness,  awaken  his  disposition,  purify  the  whole 
atmosphere  in  which  he  will  live.  It  comes,  the  crisis 
comes  ;  and  perhaps  through  his  own  weakness,  perhaps 
through  the  folly  and  weakness  of  others,  it  fleets  away 
unheeded,  and  through  that  weakness  a  soul  is  embit- 
tered and  ruined,  a  life  is  mis-spent,  a  wide  circle  of 
light  extinguished. 

But  in  proportion  to  this  grief  at  the  sight  of  great 
occasions  wasted  —  which  an  ancient  writer  calls  the 
bitterest  of  all  griefs  —  is  the  delight  of  seeing  oppor- 
tunities seized  and  filled;  characters  under  the  stress 
of  misfortune,  or  danger,  or  temptation,  tried  and 
tested,  and  not  giving  way ;  the  disclosure  of  moral 
forces  such  as,  perhaps,  may  always  have  existed,  but 
never  would  have  had  an  occasion  of  displaying  them- 
selves at  all  except  under  some  urgent  pressure.  We 
rejoice  in  the  appearance  of  such  characters  on  the 
scene,  as  the  compensation  for  all  the  wear  and  waste 
of  the  toil  and  struggle  of  life.  We  rejoice  to  think 
that  there  are  times  when  circumstances  give  full 


282 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


employ  to  "  hands  which  the  rod  of  empire  might  have 
swayed."  We  are  roused  to  a  new  sense  of  the  value 
of  great  institutions  and  high  offices  when  we  see  that 
they  call  forth  virtues  which  before  we  hardly  knew ; 
but  which,  when  called  forth,  are  at  once  a  vindication 
of  those  offices  and  institutions,  and  also  diffuse  their 
own  savor  far  and  wide  instead  of  being  buried  in 
obscurity.  This  is  what  the  Apostle  means  when  he 
speaks  of  "  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature 
waiting  for  the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God,"  the 
"  manifestation,"'  or,  as  perhaps  we  ought  more  properly 
to  say,  M  the  revelation,"  "  the  unveiling,"  of  those  god- 
like characters  which  only  in  adversity  are  fully  recog- 
nized, which  only  by  trial  are  fully  perfected.  This 
application  of  our  existing  knowledge  to  the  anxious 
problems  of  human  life  ;  this  unflinching  determination 
to  see  things  as  they  really  are,  and  to  act  independ- 
ently of  what  is  thought  or  said  of  us  by  others ;  this 
perception  at  the  right  moment  of  the  right  thing  to  be 
done  and  the  right  word  to  be  said ;  this  presence  of 
mind,  which  can  bring  afl.  the  faculties  to  bear  on  the 
very  danger  by  which  they  seem  most  likely  to  be  dis- 
persed and  dissipated,  in  the  accidents  of  fire  and  ship-, 
wreck,  in  the  sudden  alarms  of  revolutions  —  these  are 
the  qualities  which,  in  some  measure,  the  humblest  of 
us  should  strive  to  attain,  and  which  the  most  gifted 
of  us  should  beware  of  losing  or  squandering.  It  is 
the  sense  of  these  manifestations  of  unexpected  strength 
which  gives  a  zest  and  charm  to  those  famous  scenes  of 
fiction  where  Achilles  suddenly  breaks  out  from  the 
Grecian  camp,  or  Ulysses  throws  aside  his  rags  and 
stalks  with  his  dreadful  bow  across  the  threshold  of  the 
suitors.  These  are  the  qualities  which  blaze  forth  in 
the  first  and  finest  description  ever  given  of  a  soldier- 
statesman  which  I  have  selected  for  my  text  from  the 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


283 


Book  of  Joshua.  "Be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage." 
That  is  the  first,  second,  and  third  requisite  of  a  leader 
of  men ;  the  courage  which  makes  a  man  master  of 
himself  and  master  of  those  around  him ;  the  strength 
inherent  in  the  will  which  is  determined  not  to  turn 
aside  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left  from  the  duty 
which  is  placed  in  front  of  him.  And  the  same  passage 
further  describes  the  inspiring  stimulus  which  turns 
the  soldier  into  the  statesman  and  the  statesman  into 
the  soldier,  and  both  into  the  man  of  God.  "  For  unto 
this  people  shalt  thou  divide  for  an  inheritance  the 
land  which  I  sware  unto  their  fathers  to  give  them ; " 
that  is  to  say,  the  greatness,  of  the  mission  intrusted 
by  the  providence  of  God  to  the  hands  of  men  is  the 
measure  and  motive  of  indomitable  and  devoted  en- 
ergy. And  the  reason  of  this  courage  and  confidence 
is,  "  For  the  Lord  thy  God  is  with  thee  whithersoever 
thou  goest."  That  is  to  say,  we  must  have  the  assur- 
ance that  eternal  justice  and  goodness  are  with  us  — 
an  assurance  sufficient  to  sustain  us  through  good 
report  and  evil,  through  failure  and  through  success, 
through  ruin  and  through  victory.  "  Joshua  was  no 
teacher  or  prophet :  he  was  the  simple,  undaunted, 
straightforward  warrior.  He  was  known  always  by 
his  spear  or  javelin,  slung  beneath  his  shoulders  or 
stretched  forth  in  his  hand.  His  character  was  drawn 
out  of  obscurity  by  the  great  task  placed  before  him. 
It  was  the  command  to  conquer  and  to  retain  the  land 
of  promise  that  first  set  his  soul  on  fire.  From  that 
purpose  he  never  swerved ;  but  at  the  head  of  the 
hosts  of  Israel  he  went  forward  from  Jordan  to  Jeri- 
cho, from  Jericho  to  Ai,  from  Ai  to  Gibeon,  from  Beth- 
horon  to  Merom.  He  was  here,  he  was  there,  he  was 
everywhere,  as  God  called  him.  He  had  no  words  of 
wisdom  except  those  that  were  dictated  by  shrewd 


284 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


common  sense  and  a  strong  public  spirit.  To  him  the 
Divine  revelation  was  made,  not  on  the  solitary  heights 
of  Horeb,  nor  in  the  still  small  voice,  nor  in  the  courts 
of  temple  or  tabernacle,  but  as  the  Captain  of  the 
Lord's  host,  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his  hand ;  and  that 
drawn  and  glittering  sword  was  the  vision  which  went 
before  him  until  all  the  kings  of  Canaan  were  subdued 
beneath  his  feet."  1 

Such  a  character,  such  a  mission,  was  that  whose 
earthly  close  we  yesterday  commemorated.  Let  us 
first  speak  of  the  mission  which  moulded  the  character. 
It  was  like  that  of  Joshua  —  if  not  to  found,  yet  to 
save  an  Empire.  The  Indian  Empire !  In  that  name 
what  an  inheritance  has  been  handed  down  from  our 
fathers  to  us !  India,  the  new  world,  which  Alexander 
the  Great  first  revealed  to  Europe ;  India,  the  seat  of 
the  earliest  traditions  and  languages  of  the  civilized 
races  of  mankind,  the  birthplace  of  the  most  widely 
spread  faith  that  has  dawned  upon  the  earth ;  India,  the 
scene  of  the  mighty  conflicts  between  the  most  absolute 
Monotheism  and  the  most  elaborate  Polytheism  in  the 
world,  the  scene  of  the  desperate  struggles  by  which  a 
handful  of  our  countrymen  built  up  our  own  porten- 
tous Empire,  illuminated  by  the  dubious  yet  dazzling 
splendor  of  the  genius  of  Clive  and  Hastings,  by  the 
purer  lustre  of  the  beneficence  of  statesmen  like  Ben- 
tinck ;  sanctified  by  the  missionary  zeal  of  Martyn  and 
Schwartz,  of  Duff  and  Wilson,  by  the  enlightened  wis- 
dom of  prelates  like  Heber  and  Cotton  ;  India,  alike  by 
its  natural  grandeur,  and  its  long  historic  recollections, 
inspiring  the  imagination  of  Burke  and  of  Macaulay 
with  their  finest  bursts  of  enthusiastic  eloquence ; 
endeared  to  many  of  us  as  the  second  home  of  our 
childhood,  as  the  scene  of  our  youthful  fortunes;  en- 

1  See  The  Jewish  Church,  vol.  i.,  Lecture  X. 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


285 


deared  by  graves  far  away,  but  not  less  beloved,  be- 
neath the  shadow  of  the  Himalayan  heights,  or  in  the 
bed  of  the  rolling  Ganges,  or  by  the  surf-beaten  shores 
of  Madras,  or  the  swarming  thoroughfares  of  Bombay. 
Tins  is  the  land  we  have  inherited.  Into  this  we  have 
in  part  transfused,  and  it  is  our  business  to  transfuse, 
the  soul  and  mind  of  Christian  England.  For  this  we 
have  received  in  return  the  wealth  and  power  "showered 
upon  us  by  the  gorgeous  East  with  richest  hands." 

And  this  Empire,  thus  fearfully  and  wonderfully 
formed,  is  the  mightiest  instrument  which  God  has 
placed  in  the  hands  of  any  nation  for  the  purification 
and  the  regeneration  of  Asia. 

It  was  this  vast  fabric  which,  twenty  years  ago,  sud- 
denly tottered  to  its  ruin.  Never,  perhaps,  in  history 
had  a  larger  demand  been  made  on  the  efforts  of  indi- 
vidual responsibility  ;  never  had  so  much  depended  on 
the  instant,  energetic  efforts  of  a  few.  But  in  that 
dark  hour,  from  behind  the  veil  of  ignorance  which  so 
often  separates  the  mind  of  the  English  people  from  the 
affairs  of  India,  there  appeared  character  after  character 
—  let  us  say,  hero  after  hero  —  who  by  the  strength  of 
individual  purpose  and  of  unwavering  consciousness 
in  the  goodness  of  their  cause,  not  only  warded  off  the 
world-wide  calamity  which  had  burst  upon  them,  but 
also  disclosed  to  the  minds  of  Englishmen  a  host  of 
warriors  and  statesmen  such  as  we  hardly  knew  that 
we  possessed.  It  was  the  very  darkness  of  that  crisis, 
the  overclouding  of  the  brightness  of  the  fortunes  of 
England,  that  enabled  us  to  see,  as  we  could  not  have 
seen  in  broad  daylight,  the  constellation  of  brilliant  stars 
that  adorned  the  courts  and  camps  of  India.  Some  of 
them  still  live  amongst  us ;  most  of  them  are  gone  to 
their  reward ;  and  it  is  of  these  last  only  that  I  now 
speak.    There  were  the  two  Viceroys  of  India,  present 


286 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


and  future,  who  met  in  Calcutta  at  the  very  crisis  of  its 
fate ;  the  one  who  lies  in  the  northern  transept  of  this 
church,  who  in  all  that  city  showed  "  the  only  face  un- 
blanched  by  fear,"  as  afterwards  almost  the  only  judg- 
ment unmoved  by  the  cry  for  vengeance ;  the  other, 
whose  self-sacrificing  magnanimity  relinquished  for  the 
safety  of  India  the  troops  that  were  to  have  secured  his 
own  success  in  China.  There  was  Nicholson,  who,  for 
his  stainless  purity  and  awful  integrity,  was  not  only 
beloved  with  passionate  love  by  the  soldiers  amongst 
whom  he  fell,  but  was  worshipped  even  with  Divine 
honors  by  the  surrounding  natives.  There  was  Ed- 
wardes  —  whose  monument,  also,  is  amongst  us  here  — 
who  by  the  sole  magic  spell  of  his  own  brilliant  and 
winning  character  kept  in  check  at  that  critical  time 
the  wild,  untamable  tribes  beneath  him  in  defence  of 
our  frontier.  There  was  Havelock,  the  stern  Puritan, 
whose  march  to  Lucknow  this  whole  country  followed 
with  the  eagerness  of  unparalleled  anxiety,  crowned 
by  the  mingled  exultation  and  lamentation  with  which 
almost  at  the  same  hour  we  heard  of  the  relief  of  the 
beleaguered  city  and  the  death  of  its  deliverer.  There 
was  Outram,  the  Bayard  of  our  Indian  warfare,  whose 
chivalrous  soul  made  over  to  his  less-known  comrade 
the  chance  of  winning  the  glory  of  that  great  achieve- 
ment, even  as  in  his  earlier  days  he  refused  to  receive 
any  profit  or  pay  for  his  successful  guidance  of  a  war 
of  which  he  did  not  approve.  There  was  Clyde,  the 
veteran  of  a  hundred  fights,  who  from  the  day  when,  as 
a  mere  boy,  in  his  youthful,  unstained  uniform,  he  scaled 
the  hostile  fortress,  rose  through  every  vicissitude  of  the 
successive  wars  of  our  country  to  the  heights  of  military 
fame.  Side  by  side,  those  two  rival  chiefs  sleep  together 
in  the  nave  of  this  church,  which  has  so  often  before 
mingled  together  in  its  sepulchral  chambers  those  who 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


287 


were  in  life  estranged.  And  now,  himself  laid  at  the 
feet  of  these  mighty  soldiers,  as  they  also  at  the  feet 
of  their  predecessor  in  the  early  wars  of  Afghanistan, 
there  comes  the  last  and  greatest  of  all,  the  survivor  of 
the  two  heroic  brothers,  of  whom  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say,  that  during  the  moments  of  that  terrible  crisis  they 
bore  on  their  Atlantean  shoulders  the  whole  fabric  of 
English  existence  in  India.  Of  the  elder  I  will  only 
say  that  the  name  of  Henry  Lawrence  can  never  be 
parted  from  the  name  of  John  Lawrence  as  long  as  the 
history  of  our  Eastern  Empire  is  told.  Although  in 
death  they  were  far  divided ;  although  even  in  their  sev- 
eral careers  difference  of  character  and  policy  at  times 
held  them  asunder,  yet  they  were  both  alike  "  lovely  in 
their  lives,"  and  "  terrible  as  an  army  with  banners."  It 
is  of  the  younger  of  this  splendid  pair  (and,  in  saying 
this,  we  do  not  forget  the  two  who  are  still  amongst  us) 
that  we  now  would  speak. 

It  was  his  happy  fortune,  let  us  rather  say,  our  happy 
fortune,  that  he  survived  to  make  his  countrymen  at 
home  familiar  with  his  form  and  features,  with  his  soul 
and  character.  He  belonged,  indeed,  to  that  type  of 
men  of  which  the  English  race  —  I  trust  we  may  say 
it  without  boasting  —  is  so  grand  a  representation.  It 
was  with  good  reason  that  when  an  illustrious  artist 
wished  to  depict  in  the  stately  hall  of  one  of  our  great- 
est palaces  of  justice  the  signing  of  the  Magna  Charta, 
he  selected  the  stern,  rugged  countenance  and  magnan- 
imous, manly  bearing  of  John  Lawrence  as  the  like- 
ness of  the  chief  among  the  barons  of  England  who,  by 
their  uncompromising  independence,  won  for  us  our 
liberties  against  King  and  Pope.  English,  yet  also,  as 
has  been  truly  said,  Scotch  and  Irish  both  by  race  and 
character  ;  Irish  in  that  wild,  generous,  impulsive  bold- 
ness which  belongs  more  or  less  to  all  the  sons  of  Erin, 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


and  not  least  to  those  who  have  been  nurtured  in  the 
traditions  of  the  historic  city  of  Derry ;  Scotch  also  in 
the  Scottish  blood  which  of  old  gave  such  a  steadfast- 
ness to  that  refuge  of  our  Imperial  race,  when  it  stood 
there  at  bay  against  the  overwhelming  odds  of  siege  and 
famine;  English  and  Scotch  together,  alike  in  the  cau- 
tion and  in  the  independence  which  he  inherited  both 
from  his  Scottish  descent  and  also,  let  us  say,  from  his 
Yorkshire  birthplace  on  the  beautiful  banks  of  the 
Swale.  Some  one  since  his  removal  spoke  to  me  in 
quaint  expressive  phrase  of  "his  great,  deedful  life." 
"  Deedful,"  indeed,  it  was,  full  of  daring  deeds  which 
belong  rather  to  a  soldier  than  to  a  statesman,  deeds 
which  will  make  the  hearts  of  Englishmen  beat  for 
many  a  long  day  to  come  as  they  read  of  the  retention 
in  his  iron  grasp  of  the  province  of  the  Five  Rivers,  the 
Punjab,  with  which  his  name  is  forever  united,  and  of 
that  tremendous  march  of  thirty  miles  a  day  under  the 
burning  heat  of  the  summer  sun,  which,  by  his  absolute 
reUance  on  the  power  of  that  grasp,  he  alone  organized 
and  made  possible,  and  by  which,  if  by  any  one  single 
measure,  the  Indian  Empire  was  preserved. 

But  on  an  occasion  like  this  we  would  rather  dwell 
not  so  much  on  the  outer  deeds  as  on  the  inward  spirit 
which  lightened  and  thundered  through  them ;  the  in- 
ward spirit,  which  is  as  much  needed  by  England  as  by 
India  ;  which  is,  perhaps,  especially  needed  in  the  gene- 
ration through  which  we  are  passing.  It  is  in  no  indis- 
criminate eulogy  that  we  would  indulge.  He  had,  no 
doubt,  his  failings  of  judgment  and  his  faults  of  charac- 
ter, but  so  much  the  more  conspicuous  for  warning  and 
encouragement  are  the  traits  which  those  who  knew  him 
best  have  communicated  to  me  in  such  a  form  as  to 
enable  me  to  use  their  very  words.  We  sometimes  hear 
it  said  that  ostentation  and  luxury  are  gaining  ground 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


289 


on  the  "  plain  living  and  high  thinking  "  of  former  times. 
It  may  be  so:  at  least,  if  it  is  so,  let  us  recall,  as  a 
counteractive  and  antiseptic  to  these  corrupting  influ- 
ences, the  example  of  that  Spartan  simplicity,  carried 
sometimes  to  excess,  but  rooted  in  a  genuine  modesty 
and  granite  solidity,  which,  if  we  could  not  always 
imitate  or  commend,  we  could  not  help  admiring.  We 
hear,  also,  in  these  modern  days  that  the  responsibility 
of  great  officials  in  our  distant  dependencies  is  of  neces- 
sity relaxed  and  enervated  because  of  the  increasing 
control  exercised  from  the  central  source  of  power.  It 
may  be  so  :  it  may  be  inevitable  :  but,  nevertheless,  there 
will  always  be  a  lesson  of  profound  instruction  in  the 
example  of  a  man  who  had  the  foresight  to  discern  what 
needed  to  be  done  and  the  boldness  to  do  it  without 
fear  of  consequences  and  without  regard  to  his  own 
fame  and  fortune.  We  often  hear  it  said,  also,  that  to 
the  cause  of  party  all  other  interests  must  be  subordi- 
nated ;  that  for  the  sake  of  keeping  a  party  together  no 
interests  are  too  sacred  or  too  enlightened  to  be  spared ; 
that,  in  deference  to  its  claims,  appointments  must  be 
made  regardless  of  the  fitness  of  the  man  to  the  place 
or  the  place  to  the  man.  But  to  India  that  distortion 
of  party  bias  never  reaches.  Whatever  else  may  be  the 
faults  of  its  governors,  it  is  the  welfare  of  India,  and 
not  the  personal  disputes  of  English  politics,  that  sway 
their  minds.  No  such  thought,  still  less  any  thought 
of  selfish  aggrandizement,  entered  into  the  noble  soul 
which  has  passed  away.  Doubtless  in  this,  as  I  have 
said,  he  stood  not  alone ;  yet  it  is  worth  remembering 
how,  in  this  conspicuous  example,  we  have  had  amongst 
us  a  spirit  permeated  through  and  through  by  the  rare 
virtue  of  unshaken  impartiality,  and  fruitful  of  that 
class  of  good  deeds  which,  as  regards  their  effects  on 
human  happiness  and  virtue,  rank  almost  the  very  high- 


290 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


est,  that  which  the  Emperor  Alexander  Severus  placed 
as  amongst  the  chief  graces  of  the  early  Christians,  that 
they  gave  away  their  offices  to  the  best  men  without 
respect  of  persons. 

Again,  stern  as  he  was  in  action  and  forward  in 
decision,  it  was  action  and  decision  depending  on  the 
knowledge  that  he  had  acquired.  If  in  England  he 
failed  in  some  of  his  undertakings,  it  was,  as  he  himself 
felt,  from  the  want  of  sufficient  knowledge ;  but  if  in 
India  he  was  confident  of  success,  it  was  from  the  ful- 
ness of  knowledge  which  gave  him  the  power  to  do 
with  all  his  might  whatsoever  his  hand  found  to  do. 
He  strove  to  the  utmost  to  make  himself  acquainted 
with  all  forms  and  varieties  of  the  native  races  which 
he  was  called  to  govern.  He  was  a  fine  example  of 
the  value  —  the  inestimable  value  —  of  India  as  a 
school  of  training  for  the  bringing  up  of  a  race  of  civil 
and  military  administrators,  in  whom  it  is  ingrained, 
not  as  a  theory,  but  as  a  duty,  to  study  those  complex 
forms  of  human  character  so  unlike  ours  and  yet  so 
deeply  instructive  for  us  to  contemplate,  even  without 
regard  to  the  usefulness  of  such  a  study  for  their  effec- 
tive governance.  It  was  this  wide  circumspection 
which  made  every  word  of  rebuke  or  reproof  from  him, 
whether  to  Englishmen  or  to  natives,  come  with  such 
peculiar  force.  There  is  a  story  worth  repeating  as  an 
instance  of  his  lofty  dealing  with  inferior  minds.  Dur- 
ing his  conduct  of  some  important  cause  for  a  young 
Indian  Rajah,  the  Prince  endeavored  to  place  in  his 
hands  under  the  table  a  sack  of  rupees.  He  answered 
at  once,  "  Young  man.  you  have  offered  to  an  English- 
man the  greatest  insult  which  an  Englishman  can  pos- 
sibly receive.  This  time,  in  consideration  of  your 
youth,  I  excuse  it.  Let  me  warn  you  from  this  experi- 
ence never  again  to  perpetrate  so  gross  an  offence 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


291 


against  an  English  gentleman/'  How  many  are  there 
who  will  never  forget  the  moral  effect  produced  upon 
themselves  by  his  indefatigable,  untiring  industry  so 
long  as  health  and  eyesight  were  left  to  him,  and  his 
profound  contempt  for  the  idle,  lounging,  loitering 
habits  by  which  so  much  of  human  existence  in  our 
time  is  expended  and  destroyed !  He  worked,  we  are 
told,  morning,  noon,  and,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the 
word,  night,  as  well  as  day.  He  was  free  to  receive 
communications  of  all  sorts  from  all  sorts  of  people. 
If  a  murder,  or  party  fight,  or  flagrant  robbery  was 
reported  to  him,  he  was  at  once  in  the  saddle  and  away 
to  any  part  of  his  district,  regardless  of  sun  or  tempest. 
If  a  dispute  about  land  was  threatening  the  public 
peace,  he  flew  at  once  to  the  spot,  with  the  proverb 
ever  on  his  tongue,  "  Disputes  about  land  must  be  set- 
tled on  the  land,"  —  a  homely  proverb,  full  of  truth  on 
many  other  questions  than  that  of  land,  and  in  many 
other  countries  than  India. 

Such  virtues  and  graces  as  I  have  spoken  of  ma}% 
perchance,  be  thought  too  homely,  too  far  removed 
from  the  burning  and  thrilling  atmosphere  of  inspired 
genius  or  brilliant  wit  or  impassioned  piety  to  deserve 
the  tribute  of  honor  awarded  to  him  by  a  sorrowing 
nation.  But  it  is  the  very  homeliness  of  these  gifts 
and  graces  that  makes  them  so  instructive  for  a  mixed 
congregation  or  for  a  whole  nation  to  contemplate. 
He  was,  indeed,  a  hero  even  after  the  manner  of  the 
heroes  of  his  favorite  Plutarch,  or  of  his  favorite  Wal- 
ter Scott ;  but  he  became  a  hero  through  the  means  of 
those  quiet,  intelligible,  and,  so  to  speak,  ordinary 
virtues  which  are  not  beyond  the  reach  of  the  youngest 
or  the  humblest  of  those  who  hear  me.  It  was,  as  has 
been  said,  by  reason  of  those  heathen,  often-despised 
yet  cardinal  and  most  Christian  virtues  of  justice,  for- 


292 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


titude,  temperance,  and  prudence,  exercised  by  him  on 
a  grand  scale,  that  the  Empire  of  India  was  sustained. 

Yet  one  step  farther.  We  may  be  allowed  to  pene- 
trate beyond  the  manifestation  of  great  deeds,  behind 
the  manifestation  of  great  qualities.  Any  one  who 
saw  him  felt  at  once  in  his  presence  a  certain  majestic 
dignity,  a  calm  repose,  which  made  us  confident  that 
with  him,  under  whatever  emergency,  we  were  safe. 
He  was  not  only  a  leader  of  men,  but  a  leader  on 
whom  men  could  rely  without  the  apprehension  of 
those  sudden  weaknesses  and  betrayals  by  which  some 
of  the  most  gifted  among  the  human  race  have  diffused 
around  them  a  sense,  not  of  security,  but  of  mistrust. 
We  were  reminded,  when  we  saw  him,  of  that  passage 
in  the  Book  of  Isaiah,  which  says,  "Who  among  us 
shall  dwell  with  the  devouring  fire  ?  who  among  us 
shall  dwell  with  everlasting  burnings  ? "  That  is  to 
say,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  passage,  "  Who  shall 
endure  the  scorching  flames  of  temptation,  or  trial,  or 
danger,  or  pain,  in  order  to  gain  that  supernatural 
strength  which  bids  defiance  to  the  wrong-doings  of 
earth  ?  "  And  the  answer  of  the  prophet  is  the  only 
true  one  :  "  He  that  walketh  righteously,  and  speaketh 
.  uprightly ;  he  that  despiseth  the  gain  of  princes,  and 
that  shaketh  his  hands  from  the  holding  of  bribes, 
and  that  stoppeth  his  ears  from  hearing  of  blood,  and 
shutteth  his  eyes  from  seeing  evil ; "  that  is  to  say,  he 
who  scorns  to  do  wrong ;  he  who  would  not  go  against 
his  conscience  for  any  advantage ;  he  who  has  no  eyes 
to  see,  and  no  ears  to  hear  the  allurements  to  evil  — 
he,  and  he  only,  will  be  certainly  prepared  for  every 
thing  that  can  come  upon  him.  We  ask  yet  further, 
Why  and  how  is  this?  What  is  it,  whether  in  the 
ordinary  trials  of  everyday  life,  or  the  sterner  trials  of 
the  State  or  the  Church,  that  gives  us  this  security? 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


293 


The  prophet's  next  words  give  the  reply:  "He  shall 
dwell  on  high ;  his  place  of  defence  shall  be  the  strong 
rocks ;  his  bread  shall  be  given  him ;  his  water  shall  be 
sure."  That  is  to  say,  he  shall  be  like  a  man  in  an 
impregnable  fortress ;  though  the  castle  be  wrapped  in 
a  circle  of  flames,  he  will  look  down  on  the  raging  sea 
of  fire  without  the  fear  of  its  reaching  his  soul ;  his 
provisions  will  certainly  hold  out ;  there  is  within  his 
citadel  a  perennial  well  of  water. 

This  is  exactly  the  description  of  the  upright  Chris- 
tian man,  whether  martyr  or  missionary,  whether 
statesman  or  soldier.  He  looks  down  as  from  a  moun- 
tain cliff.  He  looks  down  on  pain  and  weakness  as 
contemptible.  This  is  the  very  intention  of  calling 
such  a  man  a  man  of  high  soul,  of  high  mind,  of  high 
principle.  He  is  lofty ;  he  is  in  the  "  munitions  of 
rocks."  He  has  his  own  resources  in  himself.  He  has 
the  bread  and  water  which  shall  not  fail,  the  food  of 
noble  thoughts,  of  inspiring  recollections,  and  devout 
prayer.  He  has  that  well  of  living  water,  an  undefiled 
conscience,  a  pure  heart,  clean  hands,  communion  with 
the  invisible  world. 

Such,  or  something  like  this,  was,  we  may  believe, 
the  inner  character  which  formed  the  spiritual  basis  of 
that  mountain  of  moral  strength.  We  know  that  in 
the  narrower  sense  of  the  word  religion,  he  was  never 
ashamed  or  afraid  to  profess  his  belief  in  those  simple 
truths  of  Christianity  which  he  found  enough  for  his 
soul's  support.  To  societies  for  the  diffusion  of  the 
Bible,  or  for  promoting  missionary  efforts,  he  gave  his 
sincere  and  public  adhesion.  In  the  welcome  rendered 
to  the  unfettered  faith  of  the  Indian  Reformer,  Chun- 
der  Sen,  outside  the  pale  of  every  church,  he  cordially 
joined.  But  it  is  not  these  more  external  expressions 
of  Christian  belief  that  bear  the  best  witness  to  his 


294 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


religious  life.  It  is  the  fact  that  his  whole  conduct 
was  grounded  on  the  assurance  that  he  was  working 
with  and  for  Eternal  Righteousness  and  Love.  Those 
virtues  of  which  we  have  spoken  —  of  just  dealing  and 
indomitable  industry  —  were  touched  by  the  light  as  of 
a  better  world,  were  purified  and  softened  as  time  went 
on.  "  He  only  feared  his  fellow-men  so  little "  —  I 
quote  the  words  of  one  who  knew  him  well  —  "  because 
he  feared  his  God  so  much:"  In  early  days,  his  friends 
used  to  call  him  "  Iron  John."  Their  feeling  towards 
him  was  more,  perhaps,  of  respect  and  awe  than  of 
affection ;  but  as  years  advanced,  and  his  solid  charac- 
ter yielded  more  and  more  to  religious  and  domestic 
influence,  his  gentler  nature  was  developed.  Those 
who  enjoyed  his  intercourse  more  and  more  perceived 
a  gracious  pleasantness  which  was  rather  commended 
by  his  outward  ruggedness  and  sternness.  There  was 
a  touching  magnanimity  brought  into  relief  by  the 
entire  resignation  with  which,  regardless  of  suffering 
and  weakness,  he  submitted  to  the  privations  and  trials 
—  alas!  how  severe  to  him  and  to  us  all — of  failing 
powers  and  failing  eyesight.  Each  year  he  seemed  to 
those  around  him  to  become  more  prepared  for  that 
great  change  which  has  now  suddenly  overtaken  him. 

Farewell,  great  pro-consul  of  our  English  Christian 
Empire !  Where  shall  we  look  in  the  times  that  are 
coming  for  an  abounding  knowledge  and  disinterested 
love  of  India  like  his  ?  Where  shall  we  find  that  reso- 
lute mind  and  countenance  which  seem  'to  say  — 

 this  rock  shall  fly 

From  its  firm  base  as  soon  as  I  ? 

He  has  gone ;  but  he  has  not  been  amongst  us  in  vain, 
and  we  have  not  lost  him  altogether,  if  he  has  left  behind 
him  a  standard  of  integrity  to  which  every  Indian  ruler 


AN  INDIAN  STATESMAN. 


295 


can  look  back  —  an  example  for  every  English  man  and 
every  English  hoy  of  what  an  Englishman  and  a  Chris- 
tian may  be,  a  true  servant  of  the  English  State,  a  true 
servant  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  In  that  touching 
prayer  found  in  the  handwriting  of  the  young  French 
prince  whose  untimely  death  this  country  is  so  sadly 
mourning,  there  are  these  most  true  and  significant 
words,  which  come  home  to  every  bereaved  heart  and 
every  bereaved  nation :  "  If  I  forget  those  who  are  de- 
parted, I  shall  in  my  turn  be  forgotten.  May  I  never 
give  way  to  the  sad  suggestion  that  time  effaces  every 
thing !  Grant  that  there  may  sink  deeper  and  deeper 
into  my  heart  the  conviction  that  those  who  are  gone 
are  witnesses  of  all  my  actions.  My  life  shall  then  be 
worthy  to  be  seen  by  them.  My  innermost  thoughts 
shall  then  be  such  as  will  never  cause  me  to  blush  for 
them." 

That,  in  a  narrower  or  a  further  degree  is  the  feeling 
which,  more  or  less,  we  ought,  all  of  us,  to  entertain  of 
the  dead.  They,  in  their  blest  estate,  are  witnesses  to 
us  of  what  they  would  have  us  to  be.  Their  memory 
is  a  standing  rebuke,  or  a  cheering  call,  in  the  hours 
of  failure,  and  temptation,  and  sorrow.  From  the  grave 
of  such  a  one  as  lie  whom  we  have  lost  there  comes  up 
the  message  of  his  life,  not  only  to  the  nation  at  large, 
but  to  the  weary  and  heavy  laden,  the  desolate  and  the 
afflicted :  "  Be  strong  and  of  a  good  courage :  be  not 
afraid,  neither  be  thou  dismayed ;  for  the  Lord  thy 
God  —  the  Eternal  Truth  and  Mercy  —  is  and  shall  be 
with  thee  hi  this  world  and  in  the  next  whithersoever 
thou  goest." 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


February  6, 1881,  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Carlyle. 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  likened  unto  a  man  which  sowed  good 
seed  in  his  field.  — Matthew  xiii.  24. 

The  Gospel  of  this  day  starts  with  a  comparison  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  a  sower.  It  is  the  same  as 
that  with  which  the  more  celebrated  parable  begins,  "A 
sower  went  forth  to  sow."  They  both  fix  our  minds 
on  the  manner  in  which  God's  kingdom  —  the  kingdom 
of  truth,  beaut}r,  and  goodness  —  is  carried  on  in  the 
world.  The  kingdom  of  all  that  is  good  is  fostered,  not 
so  much  by  direct  and  immediate  plantation,  or  grafting, 
or  building,  or  formation  of  any  kind  ;  but  rather  by  the 
sowing  of  good  seed,  which  in  time  shall  grow  up  and 
furnish  a  rich  harvest. 

It  is  so  with  regard  to  the  truths  of  the  Bible.  They 
are  sown  in  the  world ;  the  good  which  grows  up  after 
them  is  never  in  outward  form  like  the  truth  which 
came  from  the  actual  source.  Institutions  spring  up. 
They  may  derive  their  vitality  from  the  "  corns  of  wheat 
which  fall  into  the  ground  and  die  ;  "  1  but  they  cannot 
be  the  very  thing  itself.  There  is  not  a  single  form  or 
a  single  doctrine  of  Christendom  of  which  the  outward 
shape  is  not  different  in  some  way  from  the  principle  of 
life  which  gave  it  birth. 

There  is  only  one  instance  in  the  whole  Bible  of  a 

1  John  xii.  24. 

296 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


297 


ready-made  scholastic  doctrine,  and  that  has  been  long 
known  to  be  spurious.  It  is  not  the  verse  of  the  three 
witnesses,  but  the  parable  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  the 
poetry  of  the  Prodigal  Son,  the  pathetic  story  of  the 
Crucifixion  that  have  been  the  true  seeds  of  the  Chris- 
tian life.  In  this  way  it  is  that  the  Divine  origin  of 
these  truths  proves  itself.  The  bright  and  tender  words 
can  never  grow  old,  because  they  are  not  flowers  cut 
and  dried,  but  seeds  and  roots,  which  are  capable  of 
bearing  a  thousand  applications. 

Again,  this  is  the  ground  of  our  looking  forward  with 
a  hope  which  nothing  can  extinguish  towards  the  trans- 
formation, the  renewal  of  the  human  life,  for  a  moment 
perishing,  to  re-appear,  we  trust,  in  some  future  world 
instinct  with  the  capacities  for  good  or  evil  with  which 
it  was  endowed  or  which  it  has  acquired  in  the  world 
that  now  is.  "  The  seminal  form  within  the  deeps  of 
that  little  chaos  sleeps,"  which  will,  we  trust,  in  the 
Almighty  Providence  of  God,  restore  that  chaos  of  de- 
cayed and  broken  powers  into  conditions  more  elevated 
than  now  we  can  dream  of. 

Again,  characters  appear  in  the  world  which  have  a 
vivifying  and  regenerating  effect,  not  so  much  for  the 
sake  of  what  they  teach  us,  as  for  the  sake  of  showing 
us  how  to  think  and  how  to  act.  What  Socrates  taught 
concerning  man  and  the  universe  has  long  since  passed 
away ;  but  what  he  taught  of  the  method  and  process  of 
pursuing  truth  —  the  inquiry,  the  cross-examination, 
the  sifting  of  what  we  do  know  from  what  we  not  know 
—  this  is  the  foundation,  the  good  seed,  of  European 
philosophy  for  all  time.  What  St.  Paul  taught  con- 
cerning circumcision  and  election  or  grace  is  among 
the  things  hard  to  be  understood,  which  the  unlearned 
and  the  unstable  may  wrest  to  their  own  destruction, 
or  which,  having  served  their  generation,  may  be  laid 


298 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


asleep ;  but  what  he  taught  of  the  mode  and  manner  of 
arriving  at  Divine  truth,  when  he  showed  how  "the 
letter  killeth  and  the  spirit  maketk  alive ; "  when  he 
sets  forth  how  charity  is  the  bond  of  all  perfectness ; 
when  he  showed  how  all  men  are  acceptable  to  God  by- 
fulfilling,  each  in  his  vocation,  whether  Jew  or  Gentile, 
whether  slave  or  free,  the  commandments  of  God  — 
when  he  said  these  things  he  laid  the  true  foundation 
of  Christian  faith ;  he  planted  in  the  heart  of  man  the 
seed,  the  good  seed,  of  Christian  libert}-  and  Christian 
duty,  to  bear  fruit  again  and  again  amidst  the  many 
relapses  and  eclipses  of  Christendom.  When  Luther 
dinned  into  the  ears  of  his  generation  the  formulas  of 
transubstantiation  and  of  justification  by  faith  only, 
this  was  doomed  to  perish  and  "  wax  old  as  doth  a  gar- 
ment ; "  but  his  acts,  his  utterances  of  indignant  con- 
science, and  of  far-sighted  genius,  became  the  seed  of 
the  Reformation,  the  hope  of  the  world.  When  John 
Wesley  rang  the  changes  on  the  well-known  formula  of 
assurance,  it  was  the  word  of  the  ordinary  preacher ; 
but  his  whole  career  of  fifty  years  of  testifying  for  holi- 
ness and  preaching  against  vice  —  that  was  the  seed  of 
more  than  Methodism ;  it  was  the  seed  of  the  revival 
of  English  religious  zeal.  Such  seeds,  such  principles, 
such  infusions,  not  of  a  mechanical  system,  but  of  a  new 
light  in  the  world,  are  not  of  every-day  occurrence ; 
they  are  the  work  of  a  few,  of  a  gifted  few ;  and  it  is 
therefore  so  much  the  more  to  be  observed  when  any 
one  who  has  had  it  in  his  power  to  scatter  such  seeds 
right  and  left  passes  away,  leaving  us  to  ask  what  we 
have  gained,  what  we  can  assimilate  of  the  peculiar 
nourishment  which  his  life  and  teaching  may  have  left 
for  our  advantage.  Few  will  doubt  that  such  a  one 
was  he  who  yesterday  was  taken  from  us.  It  may  be 
that  he  will  not  be  laid,  as  might  have  been  expected, 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


299 


amongst  the  poets  and  scholars  and  sages  whose  dust 
rests  within  this  Abbey ;  it  may  be  that  he  was  drawn 
by  an  irresistible  longing  towards  the  native  hills  of  his 
own  Dumfriesshire,  and  that  there,  beside  the  bones  of 
his  kindred,  beside  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  with 
the  silent  ministrations  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  to 
which  he  still  clung  amidst  all  the  vicissitudes  of  his 
long  existence,  will  repose  all  that  is  earthly  of  Thomas 
Carlyle.  But  he  belonged  to  a  wider  sphere  than  Scot- 
land; for  though  by  nationality  a  Scotchman,  he  yet 
was  loved  and  honored  wherever  the  British  nation 
extends,  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken. 
Suffer  me,  then,  to  say  a  few  words  on  the  good  seed 
which  he  has  sown  in  our  hearts. 

In  his  teaching,  as  in  all  things  human,  there  were 
no  doubt  tares,  or  what  some  would  account  tares, 
which  must  be  left  to  after  times  to  adjust  as  best  they 
can  with  the  pure  wheat  which  is  gathered  into  the 
garner  of  God.  There  were  imitations,  parasitic  exag- 
gerations, of  the  genuine  growth,  which  sometimes 
almost  choked  the  original  seed  and  disfigured  its  use- 
fulness and  its  value  ;  but  of  this  we  do  not  speak  here. 
Gather  them  up  into  bundles  and  burn  them.  We 
speak  only  of  him  and  of  his  best  self.  Nor  would  we 
now  discourse  at  length  on  those  brilliant  gifts  which 
gave  such  a  charm  to  his  writings  and  such  an  unex- 
ampled splendor  to  his  conversation.  All  the  world 
knows  how  the  words  and  the  deeds  of  former  times 
became  in  his  hands,  as  Luther  describes  the  Apostle's 
language,  "  not  dead  things,  but  living  creatures  with 
hands  and  feet."  Every  detail  was  presented  before 
us,  penetrated  through  and  through  with  the  fire  of 
poetic  imagination,  which  was  the  more  powerful  be- 
cause it  derived  its  warmth  from  facts  gathered  together 
by  the  most  untiring  industry.    Who  can  ever,  from 


300 


THOMAS  CAKLYLE. 


this  time  forward,  picture  the  death  of  Louis  XV.,  or 
the  flight  of  the  king  and  queen,  without  remembering 
the  thrill  of  emotion  with  which,  through  the  "  History 
of  the  French  Revolution,"  they  became  acquainted 
with  them  for  the  first  time  ?  Who  can  wander 
amongst  the  ruins  of  St.  Edmund's  at  Bury  without 
feeling  that  they  are  haunted  in  every  corner  by  the 
life-like  figure  of  the  Abbot  Samson,  as  he  is  drawn 
from  the  musty  chronicle  of  Jocelyn  ?  Who  can  read 
the  letters  and  the  speeches  of  Cromwell,  now  made 
almost  intelligible  to  modern  ears,  without  gratitude  to 
the  unwearied  zeal  which  gathered  together  from  every 
corner  those  relics  of  departed  greatness  ?  What  Ger- 
man can  fail  to  acknowledge  that  not  even  in  that 
much-enduring,  all-exhausting  country  of  research  and 
labor  —  not  even  there  has  there  been  raised  such  a 
monument  to  Frederick  the  Second,  called  the  Great, 
as  by  the  simple  Scotchman  who,  for  the  sake  of  de- 
scribing what  he  considered  the  last  hero-king,  almost 
made  himself  for  the  time  a  soldier  and  a  statesman  ? 

But  on  these  and  many  like  topics  this  is  not  the 
time  or  place  to  speak.  It  is  "for  us  to  ask,  as  I  have 
said,  what  was  the  good  seed  which  he  sowed  in  the 
field  of  our  hearts,  and  in  what  respects  we  shall  be,  or 
ought  to  be,  the  better  for  the  sower  having  lived  and 
died  among  us. 

It  was  customary  for  those  who  honored  him  to  speak 
of  him  as  a  "prophet."  And  if  we  take  the  word  in 
its  largest  sense  he  truly  deserved  the  name.  He  was 
a  prophet,  and  felt  himself  to  be  a  prophet,  in  the 
midst  of  an  untoward  generation  ;  his  prophet's  mantle 
was  his  rough  Scotch  dialect,  and  his  own  peculiar  dic- 
tion, and  his  own  secluded  manner  of  life.  He  was  a 
prophet  most  of  all  in  the  emphatic  utterance  of  truths 
which  no  one  else,  or  hardly  any  one  else,  ventured  to 


THOMAS  CAIILYLE. 


301 


deliver,  and  which  he  felt  to  be  a  message  of  good  to  a 
world  sorely  in  need  of  them.  He  stood  almost  alone 
among  the  men  of  his  time  in  opposing  a  stern,  inflex- 
ible, resistance,  to  the  whole  drift  and  pressure  of  mod- 
ern days  towards  exalting  popular  opinion  and  popular 
movements  as  oracles  to  be  valued  above  the  judgment 
of  the  few,  above  the  judgment  of  the  wise,  the  strong, 
and  the  good.  Statesmen,  men  of  letters,  preachers, 
have  all  bowed  their  heads  under  the  yoke  of  this,  as 
they  believed,  irresistible  domination,  under  the  impres- 
sion that  the  first  duty  of  the  chiefest  man  is  not  to 
lead  but  to  be  led,  the  necessary  condition  of  success 
to  ascertain  which  way  the  current  flows,  and  to  swim 
with  it  as  far  as  it  will  bear  us.  To  his  mind  all  this 
proved  an  insane  delusion.  That  expression  of  his 
which  has  become,  like  many  of  his  expressions,  almost 
proverbial  in  the  minds  of  those  who  like  them  least, 
will  express  the  attitude  of  his  mind  —  his  answer  to 
the  question,  "What  are  the  people  of  England?" 
"  Thirty  millions  —  mostly  fools."  The  whole  frame- 
work and  fabric  of  his  mind  was  built  up  on  the  belief 
that  there  are  not  many  wise,  not  many  noble  minds, 
not  many  destined  by  the  Supreme  Ruler  of  the  uni- 
verse to  rule  their  fellows ;  that  few  are  chosen,  that 
"  strait  is  the  gate  and  narrow  is  the  way,  and  few 
there  be  that  find  it."  But  when  the  few  appear,  when 
the  great  and  good  present  themselves,  it  is  the  duty 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  multitude  to  seek  their  guidance. 
A  Luther,  a  Cromwell,  a  Goethe,  were  to  him  the  born 
kings  of  men.  This  was  his  doctrine  of  the  work  of 
heroes ;  this,  right  or  wrong,  was  the  mission  of  his  life. 
It  is,  all  things  considered,  a  fact  much  to  be  meditated 
upon ;  it  is,  all  things  considered,  a  seed  which  is 
worthy  of  our  cultivation. 

There  is  another  feeling  of  the  age  to  which  he  also 


302 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


stood  resolutely  opposed,  or,  rather,  a  feeling  of  the  age 
which  was  resolutely  opposed  to  him  —  the  tendency 
to  divide  men  into  two  hostile  camps,  parted  from  each 
other  by  watchwords  and  flags,  and  banners  and  tokens 
which  we  commonly  designate  by  the  name  of  party. 
He  disparaged,  perchance  unduly,  the  usefulness,  the 
necessity,  of  party  organization  or  party  spirit  as  a 
part  of  the  secondary  machinery  by  which  the  great 
affairs  of  the  world  are  carried  on ;  but  he  was  a  signal 
example  of  a  man  who  not  only  could  be  measured  by 
no  party  standard,  but  absolutely  disregarded  it.  He 
never,  during  the  whole  course  of  his  long  life,  took  an 
active  part  —  never,  I  believe,  even  voted  —  in  those 
elections  which,  to  most  of  us,  are  the  very  breath  of 
our  nostrds.  For  its  own  sake  he  cherished  whatever 
was  worth  preserving;  for  its  own  sake  he  hailed  what- 
ever improvement  was  worth  effecting.  He  cared  not 
under  what  name  or  by  what  man  the  preservation  or 
the  improvement  was  achieved.  This,  too,  is  an  ideal 
which  few  can  attain,  which  still  fewer  attempt ;  but  it 
is  something  to  have  had  one  man  who  was  possessed  by 
it  as  a  vital  and  saving  truth.  And  such  a  man  was  the 
Prophet  of  Chelsea.  But  there  was  that  in  him  which, 
in  spite  of  his  own  contemptuous  description  of  the 
people,  in  spite  of  his  scorn  for  the  struggles  of  party, 
endeared  him  in  no  common  degree  even  to  those  who 
most  disagreed  with  him,  even  to  the  humblest  classes 
of  our  great  community.  He  was  an  eminent  instance 
of  how  a  man  can  trample  on  the  most  cherished  idols 
of  the  market-place  if  yet  he  shows  that  he  has  in  his 
heart  of  hearts  the  joys,  the  sorrows,  the  needs  of  his 
toiling,  suffering  fellow-creatures.  In  this  way  they 
insensibly  felt  drawn  towards  that  tender,  fervid  nature 
which  was  weak  when  they  were  weak,  which  burned 
with  indignation  when  they  suffered  wrong.    They  felt 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


303 


that  if  he  despised  them  it  was  in  love ;  if  he  refused 
to  follow  their  bidding  it  was  because  he  believed  that 
their  bidding  was  an  illusion. 

And  for  that  independence  of  party  of  which  I  spoke, 
there  was  also  the  countervailing  fact  that  no  man 
could  for  a  moment  dream  that  it  arose  from  indiffer- 
ence to  his  country.  He  was  no  monk ;  he  was  no 
hermit  dwelling  apart  from  the  passions  which  sway 
the  destinies  of  a  great  nation.  There  is  no  man  living 
to  whom  the  thrift,  the  industry,  the  valor  of  his  coun- 
trymen was  so  deeply  precious.  There  is  no  man 
living  to  whom,  had  it  been  possible  for  him  to  have 
been  aroused  from  the  torpor  of  approaching  death, 
the  news  would  have  been  more  welcome  that  the  Par- 
liament of  England  had  been  in  the  past  week  saved 
from  becoming  a  byword  and  reproach  and  shame 
amongst  the  nations  of  the  earth.  And  all  this  arose 
out  of  a  frame  of  mind  which  others  have  shared  with 
him,  but  which,  perhaps,  few  have  been  able  to  share 
to  the  same  extent.  The  earnestness  —  the  very  word 
is  almost  his  own  —  the  earnestness,  the  seriousness 
with  which  he  approached  the  great  problems  of  all 
human  life  have  made  us  feel  them  also.  The  tides  of 
fashion  have  swept  over  the  minds  of  many  who  once 
were  swayed  by  his  peculiar  tones ;  but  there  must  be 
many  a  young  man  whose  first  feelings  of  generosity 
and  public  spirit  were  roused  within  him  by  the  cry  as 
if  from  the  very  depths  of  the  heart,  "  Where  now  are 
your  Hengists  and  your  Horsas?  Where  are  those 
leaders  who  should  be  leading  their  people  to  useful 
employments,  to  distant  countries  —  where  are  they? 
Preserving  their  game  !  "  Before  his  withering  indig- 
nation all  false  pretensions,  all  excuses  for  worthless 
idleness  and  selfish  luxury  fell  away.  The  word  which 
he  invented  to  describe  them  has  sunk  perhaps  into 


304 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


cant  and  hollowness ;  but  it  had  a  truth  when  first  he 
uttered  it.  Those  falsities  were  shams,  and  they  who 
practised  them  were  guilty  of  the  sin  which  the  Bible, 
in  scathing  terms,  calls  hypocrisy. 

And  whence  came  this  earnestness?  Deep  down  in 
the  bottom  of  his  soul  it  sprang  from  his  firm  convic- 
tion that  there  was  a  higher,  a  better  world  than  that 
visible  to  our  outward  senses.  All  who  acted  on  this 
conviction  —  whether  called  saints  in  the  middle  ages, 
or  Puritans  in  the  seventeenth  century,  or  what  you 
like  in  our  own  day  —  he  revered  them,  with  all  their 
eccentricities,  as  bright  and  burning  examples  of  those 
who  "  sacrificed  their  lives  to  their  higher  natures,  their 
worser  to  their  better  parts."  In  addressing  the  ■  stu- 
dents at  Edinburgh  he  bade  them  remember  that  the 
deep  recognition  of  the  eternal  justice  of  heaven,  and 
the  unfailing  punishment  of  crimes  against  the  law  of 
God,  is  at  the  origin  and  foundation  of  all  the  histories 
of  nations.  No  nation  which  did  not  contemplate  this 
wonderful  universe  with  an  awe-stricken  and  reveren- 
tial belief  that  there  was  a  great  unknown,  omnipotent, 
all-wise,  and  all-just  Being  superintending  all  men  and 
all  interests  in  it  —  no  nation  ever  came  to  very  much, 
nor  did  any  man  either,  who  forgot  that.  If  a  man 
forgot  that,  he  forgot  the  most  important  part  of  his 
mission  in  the  world.  So  he  spoke,  and  the  ground  of 
his  hope  for  Europe  —  of  his  hope,  we  may  say,  against 
hope  —  was  that,  after  all,  in  any  commonwealth  where 
the  Christian  religion  exists,  nay,  in  any  commonwealth 
where  it  has  once  existed,  public  and  private  virtue, 
the  basis  of  all  good,  never  can  become  extinct,  but  in 
every  new  age,  and  even  after  the  deepest  decline, 
there  is  a  chance,  and,  in  the  course  of  ages,  the  cer- 
tainty, of  renovation.  The  Divine  depths  of  sorrow, 
the  sanctity  of  sorrow,  the  life  and  death  of  the  Divine 


THOMAS  CARLYLE. 


305 


man  —  these  were  to  him  Christianity.  We  stand,  as 
it  were,  beside  him  whilst  the  grave  has  not  yet  closed 
over  those  flashing  eyes,  over  those  granite  features, 
over  that  weird  form  on  which  we  have  so  often  looked, 
whilst  the  silence  of  death  has  fallen  on  that  house 
which  was  once  so  frequented  and  so  honored.  We 
call  up  memories  which  occurred  to  ourselves.  One 
such,  in  the  far  past,  may  perchance  come  with  peculiar 
force  to  those  whose  work  is  appointed  in  this  place. 
Many  years  ago,  whilst  I  belonged  to  another  cathe- 
dral, I  met  him  in  St.  James's  Park,  and  walked  with 
him  to  his  own  house.  It  was  during  the  Crimean 
War ;  and  after  hearing  him  denounce  with  his  vigor- 
ous and  perhaps  exaggerated  earnestness  the  chaos  and 
confusion  into  which  our  Administration  had  fallen, 
and  the  doubt  and  distrust  which  pervaded  all  classes 
at  the  time,  I  ventured  to  ask  him,  "  What,  under  the 
circumstances,  is  your  advice  to  a  Canon  of  an  English 
Cathedral?"  He  grimly  laughed  at  my  question.  He 
paused  for  a  moment  and  then  answered  in  homely  and 
well-known  words ;  but  which  were,  as  it  happened, 
especially  fitted  to  situations  like  that  in  which  he  was 
asked  to  give  his  counsel  — "  Whatsoever  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  all  thy  might."  That  is  no 
doubt  the  lesson  he  leaves  to  each  one  of  us  in  this 
place,  and  also  to  this  weary  world  —  the  world  of 
which  he  felt  the  weariness  as  age  and  infirmity  grew 
upon  him  ;  the  lesson  which,  in  his  more  active  days, 
he  practised  to  the  very  letter.  He  is  at  rest ;  he  is  at 
rest ;  delivered  from  that  burden  of  the  flesh  against 
which  he  chafed  and  fretted  !  He  is  at  rest !  In  his 
own  words,  "  Babylon,  with  its  deafening  inanity,  rages 
on,  innocuous  and  unheeded,  to  the  dim  forever."  From 
the  "  silence  of  the  eternities "  of  which  he  so  often 
spoke,  there  still  sound,  and  will  long  sound,  the  tones 
of  that  marvellous  voice. 


306 


THOMAS  CAELYLE. 


Let  us  take  one  tender  expression  written  three  or 
four  years  ago,  one  plaintive  yet  manful  thought  which 
has  never  yet  reached  the  public  eye.  "  Three  nights 
ago,  stepping  out  after  midnight,  and  looking  up  at 
the  stars  which  were  clear  and  numerous,  it  struck  me 
with  a  strange,  new  kind  of  feeling  —  Ha!  in  a  little 
while  I  shall  have  seen  you  also  for  the  last  time. 
God  Almighty's  own  theatre  of  immensity  —  the  infi- 
nite made  palpable  and  visible  to  me  —  that  also  will 
be  closed  —  flung  to  in  my  face  —  and  I  shall  never 
behold  that  either  any  more.  The  thought  of  this  eter- 
nal deprivation  (even  of  this,  though  this  is  such  a 
nothing  in  comparison)  was  sad  and  painful  to  me. 
And  then  a  second  feeling  rose  upon  me,  What  if  Om- 
nipotence that  has  developed  in  me  these  pieties,  these 
reverences,  and  infinite  affections,  should  actually  have 
said,  Yes,  poor  mortal,  such  as  you  who  have  gone  so 
far  shall  be  permitted  to  go  farther?  Hope,  despair 
not !  —  God's  will.  God's  will ;  not  ours  if  it  is  un- 
wise." 

God's  will,  not  ours,  be  done.  Yes,  God's  wUl  be 
done  for  us  and  for  him.  The  Lord  gave  and  the  Lord 
taketh  away. 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


February  13,  1881,  the  Sunday  following  the  death  of  Lord  John 
Thynne,  Sub-dean  of  Westminster. 

I  have  considered  the  days  of  old  :  and  the  years  that  are  past. — 
Psalm  lxxvii.  5  (Prayer-book  version). 

/  have  considered  the  days  of  old,  and  the  years  of  ancient  times.  — 
Ibid.  (Bible  version). 

The  Psalmist  is  in  a  state  of  deep  depression ;  he 
wonders  whether  the  Eternal  will  absent  Himself  for- 
ever ;  he  asks  whether  His  mercy  is  clean  gone  for- 
ever, and  His  promises  come  utterly  to  an  end  for  ever- 
more. We  know  not  the  special  causes  of  this  anx- 
iety, but  we  see  in  the  Psalm  the  manner  in  which 
his  troubled  spirit  was  composed,  and  the  thoughts  in 
which  he  took  refuge.  He  dwelt  on  the  days  of  old ; 
on  the  liistory  of  the  years  that  were  past.  He  remem- 
bered the  wonders  that  God  had  wrought  in  old  time ; 
he  thought  of  all  His  works  ;  he  went  back  especially 
to  the  days  long  ago  when  the  people  of  Israel  were 
brought  up  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt ;  he  seemed  to  see, 
almost  as  in  a  vision,  the  passage  which  they  accom- 
plished through  the  Red  Sea ;  the  storm  of  the  strong 
east  wind  that  drove  the  waters  back,  the  thunder 
which  shook  their  souls  with  dread,  the  lightning  which 
illuminated  the  darkness  of  that  memorable  night,  the 
earthquake  which  caused  the  ground  beneath  them  to 
tremble,  the  mysterious  pathway  through  the  great 
waters,  the  inscrutable  footsteps  of  the  Must  High  in 

307 


308 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


the  waves  of  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  leading  of  the 
people  like  a  flock  of  terrified  sheep  by  the  hand  of 
their  venerable  rulers,  Moses,  the  mighty  Prophet,  and 
Aaron,  the  sacred  Priest. 

Such  a  backward  view  towards  the  past  is  still  one 
chief  remedy  for  times  of  despondency.  It  is  true  that 
to  look  forward  is  the  best  of  all  remedies.  The  belief 
that  in  the  progress  of  mankind  there  is  a  hope  of 
ultimate  perfection  was  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the 
highest  spirits  in  the  Jewish  race.  The  Jewish  race 
itself  had,  as  has  been  said,  its  golden  age  not  in  the 
past  but  in  the  future.  The  same  thought  has  de- 
scended to  Christian  times.  The  Apostle  forgot  those 
things  that  were  behind,  and  reached  forward  to  those 
things  which  were  before.  The  whole  creation,  accord- 
ing to  him,  was  constantly  reaching  forth  its  hand  in 
the  earnest  expectation  of  the  manifestation  of  some 
future  glory  in  the  sons  of  God.  But  this  prospective 
glance  is  not  the  only  consolation.  At  any  rate,  with- 
out a  retrospective  look  into  the  times  that  we  have 
already  known,  the  forward  apprehension  of  what  is 
to  be  becomes  unsteady  and  unstable.  A  great  states- 
man,1 whose  monument  is  in  this  church,  has  combined 
the  expression  of  the  two  feelings  in  a  motto  which  is 
now  engraven  upon  the  pedestal  —  Per  ardua  stabilis, 
that  is  to  say,  constantly  ascending  the  most  arduous 
and  adventurous  precipices,  yet  still  never  losing  his 
footing.  It  is  written  under  the  mountain  goat,  which, 
climbing  constantly,  and  yet  firm  in  its  hold  on  the 
rock,  is  the  emblem  of  the  house  of  Russell  —  but  also 
the  emblem  of  every  wise  statesman.  That  hold,  that 
footing,  is  best  preserved  by  having  an  anchor,  so  to 
speak,  in  the  thoughts  and  memories  of  the  past. 

There  are  two  special  lessons  which  this  study  of  the 

i  The  late  Earl  Kussell. 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


309 


days  of  old  enforces  upon  us.  First,  in  face  of  the 
temptation  to  which  we  are  all  liable  of  regarding  our- 
selves as  "  the  foremost  in  the  files  of  time,"  it  is  the 
natural  corrective  to  be  from  time  to  time  reminded 
that  there  have  lived  "famous  men  "  in  old  time  —  that 
there  have  been  the  "fathers  that  begat  us" — that,  as 
the  Roman  poet  sings,  "there  were  mighty  men  who 
lived  before  Agamemnon,"  and  who,  perchance,  have 
only  fallen  out  of  our  knowledge  because  there  was  no 
bard  to  trumpet  forth  their  praises,  or  because  we  are 
so  ignorant  as  not  to  know  what  they  did  or  what  they 
thought.  "Art  thou  the  first  man  that  was  born,  or 
wast  thou  made  before  the  hills  ? "  Such  a  belief  is 
very  common  at  the  present  time.  It  shows  itself  in 
many  ways ;  it  shows  itself  in  a  mode  of  feeling  widely 
diffused,  as  if  Christianity  had  been  born  into  England 
about  thirty  years  ago,  or  at  least  as  if  the  revival  of 
religious  life  in  England  dated  from  a  modern  move- 
ment of  yesterday.  Without  going  back  to  the  earlier 
times  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which,  whatever  draw- 
backs it  may  have  had,  yet  produced  the  solid,  massive, 
enduring  faith  of  Butler,  Burke,  Johnson,  and  Paley, 
and  embraced  the  whole  of  the  splendid  career  of 
John  Wesley  and  his  followers  —  without  going  back 
to  that  period,  there  was,  in  the  beginning  of  this  cen- 
tury, a  general  awakening  of  the  deeper  and  higher  life 
in  a  thousand  quarters,  breathed  into  the  world  by  the 
seriousness  which  was  the  natural  outgrowth  of  the 
great  events  subsequent  to  the  French  Revolution.  Of 
these  convulsions  it  may  well  be  said  in  the  words  of 
the  Psalm  from  which  the  text  is  taken :  "  The  waters 
saw  Thee,  O  God,  the  waters  saw  Thee,  and  were 
afraid:  the  depths  also  were  troubled.  The  voice  of 
Thy  thunder  was  heard  round  about.  The  lightnings 
shone  upon  the  ground :  the  earth  was  moved  and 


310 


THE  DATS  OF  OLD. 


shook  withal.  Thy  way  was  in  the  sea,  and  Thy  paths 
in  the  great  waters,  and  Thy  footsteps  were  not  known." 
This  seriousness  expresses  itself  in  many  forms  —  in  the 
profound  poetry  of  Wordsworth,  in  the  heart-stirring 
romances  of  Walter  Scott,  in  the  deep  earnestness  of 
Thomas  Carlyle,  in  the  thoughtful  philosophy  of  Cole- 
ridge, in  the  stimulus  given  to  religious  education  by 
Arnold,  in  the  practical  fervor  of  Wilberforce  and  of 
Simeon,  in  the  more  sober  but  not  less  effective  energy 
of  laymen  like  Joshua  Watson,  and  clergymen  like 
Blomfield  and  his  compeers  on  the  Episcopal  Bench. 
These  were  all  in  full  operation  before  the  first  growth 
of  that  movement  which  claims  to  itself  in  the  present 
day  the  exclusive  privilege  of  having  enlightened  and 
purified  the  country.  All  honor  to  those  who  in  our 
time,  by  any  means  in  their  power,  whether  by  the 
adornment  of  worship,  or  by  throwing  life  into  old 
forms  and  light  into  old  truths,  have  carried  on  the 
work  which  their  fathers  began  for  them !  But  not  the 
less  is  the  first  honor  due  to  those  who  in  the  early 
years  of  this  century  awoke  to  the  duties  of  their  posi- 
tion, and  fulfilled  its  high  calling.  And  if,  as  was  the 
case,  they  performed  their  duties  and  fulfilled  their  task 
with  the  more  difficulty  because  they  were  the  first  to 
attempt  it ;  if  they  did  good  not  for  the  sake  of  glori- 
fying themselves  or  the  party  to  which  they  belonged, 
but  simply  for  the  sake  of  doing  good,  and  of  render- 
ing the  best  service  to  the  Church  and  Commonwealth 
in  which  their  lot  had  been  cast,  so  much  the  more 
praise  is  due  to  them  in  their  often  thankless  and  unre- 
warded mission. 

Again,  the  study  of  the  past  teaches  us  the  intrinsic 
value  of  qualities  which  we  do  not  possess.  The  young 
are  always  apt  to  believe  that  in  their  sanguine,  lively, 
forward  imaginings  there  is  something  superior  to  the 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


311 


wisdom  and  experience  of  old  age.  Doubtless  each 
generation  must  learn  not  only  from  that  which  has 
gone  before  but  from  that  which  is  coming  after  it. 
The  rising  generation  has  grasped  some  truth  which 
the  older  generation  may  have  failed  to  apprehend. 
Even  a  child  can  instruct  its  elders  by  good  exam- 
ple, by  innocent  questions,  and  by  simple  statements. 
Elihu,  in  the  Book  of  Job,  was  "  very  young,"  and  the 
three  friends  were  "  very  old,"  yet  to  the  younger  and 
not  to  the  elder  was  intrusted  the  message  of  pointing 
out  the  answer  to  the  difficulties  which  had  perplexed 
them.  "  I  am  wiser  than  the  aged,"  says  the  Psalmist, 
"  because  I  keep  Thy  commandments."  This  is  a  truth 
which  we  must  bear  in  mind  in  dealing  both  with  men 
and  with  nations.  But  nevertheless  reverence  for  age 
is  a  duty  of  all  times  and  all  places.  Diffidence  and 
modesty  are  the  virtues  which  ought  to  belong  to  youth 
alike  in  the  East  and  in  the  West.  There  is  a  kindred 
nation  across  the  Atlantic  which,  with  all  its  excel- 
lences, has  not  possessed  in  any  eminent  degree  this 
modesty  of  thought  or  action.  That  is  chiefly  because 
it  has,  or  thinks  it  has,  no  venerable  ancestry  at  its 
back,  and  no  long  traditions  to  hold  in  reverence.  The 
respect  due  to  age  is  founded  on  the  qualities  which 
long  experience  brings  with  it,  and  the  wide  and  com- 
prehensive view  of  human  affairs  which,  unless  it  falls 
grievously  below  its  calling,  is  unquestionably  its  own. 
I  have  frequently  mentioned,  and  will  yet  again  men- 
tion, that  most  touching  of  all  the  expressions  of  auto- 
biography, the  reminiscences  in  which  Richard  Baxter, 
at  the  close  of  his  long  and  eventful  life,  sums  up  the 
points  in  which  the  excesses  and  the  crudities  of  his 
youthful  opinions  were  checked  by  the  moderation  and 
the  calmness  and  the  charity  of  old  age.  From  such 
counsellors  every  one  may  pause  in  the  hurry  of  life  to 


312 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


learn  the  lessons  of  a  truth  which  is  not  our  own,  and 
a  wisdom  which,  if  not  from  above,  is  at  any  rate  not 
of  this  world.  "  Reverence  is  the  angel  of  the  world  " 
—  so  said  the  great  master  of  the  human  heart.  So 
remarked  upon  the  words  the  oldest  and  one  of  the 
wisest  of  our  statesmen  the  other  day,  before  he  sank 
to  his  long  rest,  "  Reverence  is  what  softens,  elevates, 
refines,  the  minds  of  men." 

You  will  have  perceived  what  is  the  thought  that 
has  suggested  these  reflections.  A  long  and  venerable 
career  in  this  Abbey  has  just  closed.  A  link  —  almost 
the  only  surviving  link  —  which  united  us  with  the  ear- 
lier years  of  this  century  has  been  snapped  asunder. 
That  stately  figure,  those  courtly  manners,  that  high 
bearing,  that  grand  form  and  fashion  as  of  the  antique 
world,  will  no  more  be  seen  amongst  us.  For  nearly 
fifty  years  has  the  second  office  in  this  collegiate  church 
been  in  the  same  hands,  and  the  continuous  tradition 
of  six  decanal  reigns  has  been  summed  up  in  the  exist- 
ence which  has  passed  away. 

He  was  one  of  those  on  whom  were  poured  some  at 
least  of  the  beneficent  influences  of  the  opening  years 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  He  was  one  of  those  of 
whom  1  spoke,  to  whom  belongs  the  singular  merit  of 
having  been  an  unconscious  reformer  before  the  time 
when  reform  became  so  fashionable ;  one  who,  while 
himself  a  stanch  adherent  of  ancient  usage  and  estab- 
lished custom,  nevertheless  saw  the  possibility  and  the 
necessity  of  purifying  them  of  their  ingrained  abuses. 
He  did  this  at  a  time  when  such  work  was  difficult 
in  proportion  to  its  novelty.  He  found  this  Abbey 
infected  with  maladies  which  the  negligence  or  the 
altered  circumstances  of  preceding  years  had  intro- 
duced into  its  very  core.  The  free  admission  to  its 
sacred  walls,  which  had  been  debarred  by  tolls  and  im- 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


313 


posts  at  almost  every  entrance,  he  forced  on  the  reluc- 
tant authorities,  regardless  of  the  panic  fears  which 
would  have  protected  the  building  at  the  cost  of  ren- 
dering it  useless.  Down  to  his  time  nave  and  transepts 
were  alike  closed  to  the  wayfarer  and  the  worshipper 
in  London.  All  these  restrictions  were  done  away ; 
and  if  there  still  remain  some  obstacles  to  the  full  and 
free  enjoyment  of  every  part  of  the  Abbey,  it  will  be 
following  in  the  footsteps  of  his  policy  to  sweep  them 
away  when  time  and  opportunity  shall  permit.  The 
vast  congregations  which  now  assemble  Sunday  after 
Sunday  are  enabled  to  enjoy  free  air  and  free  hearing, 
by  the  courage  and  confidence  with  which,  under  his 
sanction,  the  wooden  screens  were  thrown  down  on 
either  side,  which  cut  off  all  communication  between 
the  .choir  and  the  transepts.  The  rereclos,  with  its 
mosaics  and  its  statues,  may  have  been  arranged  and 
designed  by  other  hands  and  other  minds,  but  its  whole 
form  and  fabric  is  owing  to  his  active  watchfulness 
and  foresight,  as  was  also  the  pulpit  from  which  the 
preacher  speaks.  The  bald  walls  of  the  Jerusalem 
Chamber,  from  a  like  source,  have  resumed  something 
of  their  original  splendor,  and  the  tapestries  which 
adorn  them  are  chiefly  gifts  from  the  stores  of  his  an- 
cient home.  The  services  which  have  gathered  thou- 
sands within  the  sound  of  the  preacher's  voice  on 
Sunday  evenings  were  first  inaugurated  by  him  when, 
in  the  year  of  the  Great  Exhibition,  multitudes  from 
all  the  ends  of  the  world  were  congregated  in  this 
metropolis,  and  many  heard,  for  the  first  and  last  time 
from  an  English  pulpit,  in  his  own  French  language, 
the  words  of  a  vigorous  preacher,1  now  no  more.  The 
whole  architecture  of  this  Abbey  received  a  new  life 
from  the  introduction,  under  his  patronage,  of  that 

1  Dr.  Jeune,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Peterborough. 


314 


THE  DATS  OF  OLD. 


famous  architect  whose  name  is  identified  with  almost 
every  Gothic  church  in  England.  The  choral  service, 
with  all  its  arrangements,  was  by  him  rescued  from  the 
neglect  and  disorder  into  which  for  many  years  it  had 
fallen.  The  addition  of  a  Great  Cloister,  which  should 
extend  the  glor}^  of  the  Abbey,  and  provide  for  the 
future  interment  of  the  eminent  men  of  our  country, 
was  never  absent  from  his  mind.  His  wish  still  re- 
mains unfulfilled ;  but  if  there  should  revive  in  the 
nation  or  its  rulers  any  thing  of  the  munificent  spirit 
of  former  times,  it  will  be  remembered  that  the  idea 
first  arose  with  him,  and  was  by  him  encouraged  and 
fostered  at  every  turn,  with  all  the  fondness  of  a  par- 
ent for  a  long-expected  child. 

In  earlier  times,  it  may  be,  from  the  gradual  steps  of 
the  increase  in  the  population  around  it,  the  Abbey  of 
Westminster  had  taken  but  little  heed  of  the  multitudes 
which  at  last  pressed  upon  it  with  an  intolerable  bur- 
den. He  was  the  first  who  recognized  the  fact  that  to 
this  vast  neighborhood  the  Abbey  had  a  duty  to  per- 
form. Long  ago,  before  any  public  attention  had  been 
called  to  the  need,  he  urged  the  wants  of  the  surround- 
ing parishes  on  those  concerned ;  and  it  was  owing  to 
his  incessant  exertions  that  thousands  were  given  to 
the  support  of  churches  which  are  now  the  standing 
witnesses  of  his  energy.  He  was  the  zealous  assistant 
of  his  colleague,  the  present  estimable  Bishop  of  Lin- 
coln, in  starting  that  fund  for  relieving  the  spiritual 
destitution  of  the  people  of  Westminster  which  long 
preceded  the  agencies  since  set  on  foot  for  the  same  ob- 
ject. The  times  have  moved,  the  special  work  is  accom- 
plished ;  but  the  originators  ought  not  to  be  forgotten, 
and  the  enterprise  then  set  on  foot  has  still  to  be  car- 
ried on,  though  the  head  and  the  heart  which  first 
planned  it  have  been  chilled  by  age  and  infirmity,  and 
are  now  cold  in  death. 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


315 


And  far  away  from  Westminster,  in  Somersetshire 
and  Cornwall,  there  are  many  who  will  remember  the 
good  works  which,  whether  in  his  own  peculiar  field  or 
in  the  wider  sphere  of  the  rising  wants  of  the  Church, 
he  fostered  and  favored  by  bringing  to  bear  upon  them 
his  administrative  ability  and  his  honest  intentions. 
May  I  mention  two  instances  of  this?  One  shall  be 
the  effect  which  he  produced  on  Nonconformists.  In 
the  western  parish  in  which  he  long  labored  there  was 
a  colony  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  Separated  from 
them  by  every  feeling,  political  and  ecclesiastical,  he 
was  yet  so  drawn  to  the  good  Quakers  by  their  singular 
purity  and  piety,  and  they  were  so  drawn  to  him  by  his 
singular  straightforwardness  and  uprightness,  that  a 
steady  friendship  resulted,  never  broken,  and  which 
lasted  to  the  very  end.  The  other  example  will  endear 
his  memory  to  many  of  my  own  profession.  He  was 
the  virtual  founder  of  the  first  of  theological  colleges  — 
nearly  the  first  in  time,  and  absolutely  the  first  in  im- 
portance—  the  college  at  Wells.  There  is  no  doubt 
much  to  be  said  for  and  against  theological  colleges, 
much  to  be  said  in  favor  of  the  larger,  more  generous, 
education  that  young  men  receive  at  the  two  ancient 
Universities.  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  there 
was  room  for  at  least  one  such  college ;  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  a  real  want  was  supplied  by  the  institution 
which  sprang  up  in  that  loveliest  of  all  cathedral  pre- 
cincts, in  that  beautiful  Vicars'  Close,  under  the  shade  of 
that  stately  palace  and  that  exquisite  cathedral,  which 
had  once  been  the  home  of  Ken.  Not  a  few  will  trace 
back  their  rescue  from  frivolous  pursuits,  their  sense 
of  a  deeper  religious  earnestness,  to  the  parental  coun- 
sels of  the  good  old  man  whom  he  chose  as  its  chief, 
and  whose  snow-white  head  and  benignant  face  will  be 
remembered  by  every  student  in  the  college  as  the 


316 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


sign  and  symbol  of  all  that  was  venerable  and  lova- 
ble.1 

"  I  have  considered  the  days  of  old,  and  the  years  of 
ancient  times."  For  half  a  century  he  has  been  part  of 
this  Abbey  —  almost  like  one  of  its  own  massive  pillars, 
unchanged  while  all  around  has  changed,  with  the  air, 
the  manners,  the  aspirations  of  another  age.  He,  of  all 
our  body,  most  united  us  with  the  days,  as  it  were,  be- 
before  the  flood  —  before  the  flood  of  stir  and  chancre 
broke  in  upon  us  in  the  far-off  age  of  the  first  Reform 
Bill.  He  most  faithfully  represented  the  time  when 
the  nobles  of  the  land  were  not  ashamed  to  bear  office 
in  the  high  places  of  the  English  Church.  As  these 
changes  whirled  and  wheeled  around  him  he  acknowl- 
edged their  power,  although  he  never  shared  their  in- 
fluence. Like  the  aged  poet,  whom  a  younger  bard 
celebrates  — 

He  grew  old  in  an  age  he  condemned ; 

He  looked  on  the  rushing  decay 

Of  the  times  that  had  sheltered  his  youth; 

Felt  the  dissolving  throes 

Of  a  social  order  he  loved.2 

In  that  long  succession  of  Deans,  to  whom  he  acted 
as  vicegerent,  of  Canons,  to  whom  he  acted  as  col- 
league, there  were  varieties  of  character  which  might 
well  have  vexed,  and  which  doubtless  did  vex,  his  un- 
bending nature.  But,  nevertheless,  he  well  knew  his 
position  as  in  one  of  the  most  national  and  all-embra- 
cing institutions  of  our  national  and  all-embracing 
Church.  He  did  not  shrink  from  companionship  with 
the  widely  tolerant  and  multifarious  learning  of  Mil- 
man.    His  aged  heart  warmed  at  the  fiery  enthusiasm 

1  The  Rev.  John  H.  Pinder,  first  principal  of  the  Theological  Col- 
lege, Wells. 

2  Matthew  Arnold  on  Wordsworth,  in  Hie  Youth  of  Nature. 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


317 


of  Charles  Kingsley.  He  delighted,  to  work  with  the 
bold  geologist  who  for  a  time  ruled  over  us.  He  de- 
livered over  the  powers  that  he  had  long  enjoyed  with 
chivalrous  gallantry  to  the  accomplishments  and  graces 
of  my  honored  predecessor.  And,  last  of  all,  he  bore 
with  one  who  must  have  sorely  tried  his  endurance, 
and  who  would  fain  take  this  occasion  of  expressing  his 
heartfelt  gratitude  for  a  loyal  and  generous  forbearance, 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

As  years  rolled  on  he  faded  away  from  our  sight,  but 
we  still  remained  in  his  thoughts.  The  time  drew  near 
for  the  term  of  residence,  which  with  unshaken  fidelity 
he  had  kept  for  fifty  years.  He  came  as  usual.  Like 
an  ancient  warrior,  he  would  still,  so  long  as  life  was 
granted,  be  found  at  his  post.  But  on  the  threshold 
the  Angel  of  Death  met  him,  and  he  passed  away  in 
the  sacred  cloisters  endeared  by  the  recollection  of  his 
beloved  partner,  whose  loss  had  taken  away  so  much  of 
the  brightness  of  life  —  passed  away  in  the  effort  to  dis- 
charge the  last  remaining  relic  of  duty  which  was  left 
to  him,  and  amidst  the  family  to  whom  his  patriarchal 
presence  and  domestic  virtues  were  so  long  an  example, 
a  support,  and  a  delight. 

The  shades  have  closed  thick  upon  us  —  "  fast  falls 
the  eventide,"  —  sorrow  after  sorrow,  parting  after 
parting,  has  "rent  our  sheltering  bowers."  Not  only 
ourselves  but  the  times  are  changed  ;  tasks  new  and 
unknown  lie  before  us.  But  our  duty  and  our  hope 
remain  the  same.  That  maxim  which  I  quoted  last 
Sunday  from  the  old  prophet  and  sage  of  Scotland  1  is 
still  our  motto  :  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand  findeth  to  do, 
do  it  with  all  thy  might."  That  was  what  he  whom 
we  have  lost  from  among  us,  so  long  as  strength  was 
granted  him,  did,  according  to  his  light  and  according 
1  Carlyle.   See  Sermon,  p.  263. 


318 


THE  DAYS  OF  OLD. 


to  his  capacity.  He  persevered  in  what  was  often  a 
thankless  toil ;  he  set  a  falling  house  in  order  ;  he  laid 
the  solid  foundation  whereon  we  must  build.  All  of 
us,  through  all  our  degrees,  have  to  do  the  work  of 
edifying,  beautifying,  elevating,  enlarging  the  Church 
of  England,  through  this  its  most  august  and  character- 
istic edifice.  All  of  us  have  a  high  calling  before  us, 
which  every  difficulty,  every  obstacle,  ought  to  stimu- 
late us  to  fulfil.  The  voices  of  the  dead,  the  claims  of 
the  living,  the  greatness  of  England,  the  far-reaching 
future  of  the  everlasting  Gospel  of  Christ  our  Lord, 
entreat  us  not  to  be  weary  or  faint.  The  last  of  an 
ancient  race  is  gone  from  us.  Let  us  do  our  best 
rightly  to  honor  the  trust  which  was  once  committed 
to  him,  and  which  he  and  his  generation  have  handed 
down  to  us. 

Something  ere  the  end, 
Some  work  of  noble  note  may  yet  be  done  .  .  . 
'Tis  not  too  late  to  seek  a  newer  world,  .  .  . 
Made  weak  by  time  and  fate,  but  strong  in  will, 
To  strive,  to  seek,  to  find,  and  not  to  yield. 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


May  1,  1881. 

So  the  dead  which  he  slew  at  his  death  were  more  than  they  which 
he  slew  in  his  life. — Judges  xvi.  30. 

These  words  describe  the  death  of  Samson.  A  grim 
satisfaction  breaks  out  of  the  sacred  narrative  as  it  re- 
cords the  circumstances  of  the  hero's  end.  The  vigor 
with  which  this  feeling  is  expressed  has  given  to  the 
words  a  sense  far  more  general  than  they  bear  in  their 
immediate  context.  They  rise  above  themselves  —  as 
is  the  fashion  of  words  inspired  by  the  feeling  of  men 
or  by  the  Spirit  of  God  —  into  regions  far  more  exalted 
than  they  originally  embraced.  It  has  even  been  the 
custom,  by  a  strange  excess  of  exaggeration,  to  apply 
them  to  the  greatest  of  all  deaths,  that  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  But  they  have  also  been  fre- 
quently applied  to  the  deaths  of  men,  on  all  occasions 
where  advantages  arise  from  dwelling  on  death  and  its 
concomitants.  It  has  been  felt  to  be  so  in  cases  where 
the  manner  of  the  death  has  redeemed  the  faults  of  an 
imperfect  life ;  as  when  King  Charles  the  First  by  his 
execution  awakened  a  feeling  which  had  been  extin- 
guished by  his  many  faults,  but  was  revived  by  the 
tragical  nature  of  his  end.  As  was  nobly  sung  by  the 
poet 1  of  his  enemies  :  — 

He  nothing  common  did,  or  mean, 
Upon  that  memorable  scene, 

1  Andrew  Marvell,  Horatian  Ode  upon  Cromwell's  return  from  Ireland. 

319 


320 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


But  with  his  keener  eye 

The  axe's  edge  did  try  ; 
Nor  call'd  the  gods  with  vulgar  spite 
To  vindicate  his  helpless  right  — 

not,  as  he  was  called,  a  martyr,  but  still  an  example  of 
the  effect  which  an  impressive  death  may  have  in  recti- 
fying the  mistakes  of  a  life,  rallying  round  himself  and 
his  cause  a  tender  sentiment  which  had  become  almost 
extinct,  but  which,  reviving  from  his  blood,  restored 
the  fallen  Church  and  monarchy.  Sometimes  it  has 
been  that  the  death  has  been  such  as  to  give  a  seal  to 
the  life,  and  be  accordant  with  it,  crowning  and  carry- 
ing it  on  to  the  end.  Such  have  been  the  deaths  of 
martyrs,  according  to  the  well-known  saying  of  the 
seventeenth  century,  "  The  blood  of  the  martyrs  is  the 
seed  of  the  Church."  Sometimes  the  effect  has  been 
produced  by  the  last  words  of  dying  men,  those  swan- 
like strains  which  have  in  them  a  kind  cf  prophecy, 
like  music  sweetest  at  its  close,  and  which  all  the  world 
afterwards  delights  to  gather  up  as  expressing  a  sense 
which  no  words  in  life  would  have  equally  convejred. 
Sometimes  it  has  happened  in  the  case  of  eminent  and 
gifted  men  that  only  their  deaths  have  revealed  to  us 
their  true  value,  and  the  value,  or  the  failure,  of  our 
judgments  respecting  them.  Not  once  or  twice  only 
within  our  own  experience  have  we  acknowledged  too 
late  the  genius,  the  goodness,  the  intellect,  of  those 
whom  in  life  we  disparaged,  neglected,  or  attacked. 
Not  once  or  twice  only  has  death  converted  many  a 
bitter  enemy,  caused,  we  may  almost  say,  a  nation  to 
do  penance  by  the  graves  of  those  who  were  recog- 
nized at  last,  when  they  were  passed  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  praise  and  blame.  Again  and  again 
have  misrepresentations  been  explained  by  death  more 
completely  than  ever  could  have  been  done  by  life. 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


321 


This  application,  mingling  more  or  less  with  the 
others,  is  suggested  by  the  singular  tribute  of  respect 
and  grief  which  throughout  England  and  Europe  has 
attended  the  death  of  the  celebrated  statesman  who 
has  in  the  past  week  been  laid  in  his  quiet  grave.  It 
is  not  my  intention  to  pronounce  a  funeral  discourse 
upon  the  qualities  which  by  universal  consent  rendered 
his  career  so  remarkable.  Such  a  treatment  has  been 
precluded  by  the  circumstance  of  his  not  receiving  the 
sepulchral  honors  within  this  Abbey  to  which  in  the 
judgment  of  his  mighty  rival  and  of  a  consentient 
country  he  was  entitled.  It  is  also  rendered  unneces- 
sary by  the  eloquent  words  which  on  last  Sunday  were 
spoken  to  the  vast  congregation  assembled  within  these 
walls. 

But  dismissing  all  thought  of  the  judgments  which 
may  have  been  framed  at  the  different  points  of  his  long 
and  varied  career,  or  of  the  religious  and  political  ques- 
tions which  his  life  in  its  different  parts  suggested,  I 
wish,  before  the  shadow  of  the  event  has  passed  away 
from  our  recollection,  to  fix  your  thoughts  for  a  few 
moments  on  the  permanent  lessons  to  be  drawn  from  a 
sympathy  so  general  as  that  which  followed,  not  with- 
out surprise,  on  the  close  of  this  eventful  life.  It  was 
a  sympathy,  not  indeed  to  be  named  as  equal,  either  in 
kind  or  degree,  to  that  which  accompanied  to  his  grave 
the  great  warrior  of  our  age  some  thirty  years  ago,  but 
it  is  remarkable  that,  beyond  doubt,  it  approached  more 
nearly  to  that  sentiment  than  any  other  which  we  have 
since  witnessed,  and  as  such  is  commemorated  in  that 
funeral  anthem  which  has  not  been,  and  could  not  have 
been,  repeated  on  any  othe.r  occasion  since  the  time 
when  it  was  first  composed  for  the  funeral  of  that  great 
man  to  whom  I  just  now  referred.  "And  the  king 
himself  followed  the  bier;  and  the  king  lifted  up  his 


322 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


voice  and  wept  at  the  grave,  and  all  the  people  wept." 1 
These  words  at  any  rate  correspond  in  some  degree  to 
the  feeling  which  has  now  been  roused,  and  they  have 
on  the  whole  corresponded  to  none  other  within  the 
present  generation.  Let  us  see  what  we  may  learn 
from  the  expression  of  a  grief  which,  whether  right  or 
wrong,  whether  well-grounded  or  ill-grounded,  whether 
it  pass  away  with  the  moment  or  whether  it  endure  for 
posterity,  is  not  unworthy  of  consideration  in  a  Chris- 
tian Church  and  in  a  national  edifice. 

First,  there  is  something  in  the  character  of  such  a 
sentiment  which  is  of  itself  ennobling.  It  is  true  that 
there  was  nothing  sudden  or  striking  in  the  departure 
of  which  we  speak.  It  was  not  like  the  deaths  to 
which  I  referred  just  now  of  Charles  the  First  or  of 
the  early  martyrs,  nor  yet  did  it  bear  any  resemblance 
to  the  dreadful  shock  produced  by  the  terrihle  murders 
of  kings  and  emperors.  It  was  a  death,  expected  and 
prepared  for,  of  one  who  was  gathered  like  a  full  shock 
into  the  garner,  passing  away  calmly  and  peacefully  in 
the  grasp  of  dear  and  faithful  friends.  But  for  this 
very  reason  there  is  something  in  it  which  appeals  to 
our  common  nature,  to  our  ideal  of  what  we  desire 
for  ourselves  and  our  children.  There  is  in  the  great 
National  Museum  of  France  a  touching  likeness,  from 
an  Egyptian  monument  of  four  thousand  years  ago, 
representing  the  soul  of  the  departed,  clothed  in  the 
white  garments  of  the  grave,  being  led  with  calm  and 
unmoved  features  into  the  unseen  world  by  the  strange 
and  dark  divinity  who,  with  tender  embrace,  draws  the 
dead  man  onwards  into  the  presence  of  the  impartial 
and  awful  Judge.  What  that  image  represents  to  us  in 
outward  form  and  in  the  earliest  ages  of  the  world,  is 

1  2  Sam.  iii.  31,  32.  Composed  by  Sir  John  Goss,  Mus.  Doc,  for  the 
funeral  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  St.  Paul's,  November  18,  1852. 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


323 


the  true  figure  of  what  the  thought  of  death  in  its  natu- 
ral and  constantly  recurring  shape  suggests  to  every 
son  of  Adam.  Death,  whenever  it  appears  on  the  grand 
stage  of  the  world,  must  have  a  solemn  and  impressive 
aspect.  The  end  of  a  peasant  is  equally  mournful  and 
equally  significant  to  those  of  the  little  circle  who  assist 
at  the  last  hours  ;  but  when  on  an  occasion  of  this  kind 
the  curtains  of  the  sick  room  are  withdrawn  and  the 
last  scene  is  described  to  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
human  beings  in  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world,  it  is 
then,  in  the  words  of  our  greatest  living  orator,  though 
in  another  sense,  as  if  the  Angel  of  Death  passed  near 
to  every  one  of  us,  as  if  the  beating  of  his  wings  were 
felt  in  every  household,  and  the  shadow  of  the  sepul- 
chre embraced  us  all  within  its  precincts.  The  flash- 
ing eye  i-;  quenched,  the  commanding  voice  is  silent. 
Each  one  is  reminded  that  there  is  an  end  of  human 
things,  and  a  beginning  of  things  eternal,  inconceivable 
yet  certain. 

Secondly,  there  is  a  natural  sentiment  in  the  human 
heart,  by  which,  in  the  presence  of  death,  not  only  all 
rancorous  and  ignoble  feelings  die  and  wither  away,  but 
there  is  an  irresistible  tendency  to  view  the  dead  for  the 
moment  as  transfigured  by  the  light  of  his  better  quali- 
ties, and  to  dwell,  not  on  the  points  wherein  we  widely 
differ,  but  on  the  points  wherein  we  closely  agree.  I 
dwelt  on  this  aspect  of  such  events  some  weeks  ago, 
when  speaking  on  another  subject ;  but  what  I  then 
said  has  since  received  a  striking  and  unexpected  com- 
mentary in  the  unanimity  of  expression  by  which  even 
the  severest  judgments  of  the  departed  have  been  con- 
trolled, and  the  bitterness  of  alienation  has  been  trans- 
formed into  affectionate  remembrance.  I  will  not  ask 
how  far  this  alienation  or  that  severity  were  deserved 
or  undeserved,  how  far  this  kindly  feeling  was  justified 


324  THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


or  not  justified ;  but  we  may  all  ask  which  of  the  two 
sentiments  is  the  more  elevated,  the  more  worthy  of 
rational  human  beings,  the  more  becoming  to  English- 
men and  to  Christians.  If  such  a  sympathetic  senti- 
ment is  in  itself  superior  to  the  common  expression  of 
an  acrimonious  hostility,  it  may  be  worth  while  to  ask 
whether  we  could  not  afford  a  little  more,  on  one  side 
and  the  other,  to  introduce  such  a  noble  tone  of  thought 
and  feeling  into  our  political  and  ecclesiastical  strife, 
whether  after  all  there  is  not  a  more  excellent  way  than 
the  constant  interchange  of  fierce  recriminations  and 
angry  personalities.  This  may  seem  a  chimerical 
dream.  It  may  even  appear  a  condition  of  our  exist- 
ence which  is  not  to  be  sought  after ;  it  may  even  com- 
mend itself  to  the  light  of  reason  and  of  Christianity 
that  the  darker  elements  of  human  nature,  the  eager, 
impetuous  denunciation  of  what  we  deem  wrong,  must 
have  always  their  full  sway,  that  rage  and  indignation 
are  the  only  true  parts  of  eloquence,  the  only  safe- 
guards of  right  against  injustice.  One  cannot  help  be- 
lieving that,  however  just  this  may  be  for  the  time,  yet 
there  is  such  a  thing,  even  in  this  sphere,  as  striving 
after  Christian  perfection.  In  the  glimpses  of  a  higher 
state  of  feeling  which  now  and  then  flash  upon  us  in 
moments  of  loftier  sentiment  and  purer  devotion,  there 
is  brought  before  us  something  of  that  condition  which 
the  Gospel  describes  to  us,  of  the  higher  and  the  lower 
state,  in  which  Martha,  the  busy,  incessant,  indefatiga- 
ble, uncontrollable  worker,  is  cumbered  about  many 
things,  whilst  Mary,  her  eye  fixed  on  the  brighter, 
nobler  aspect  of  sorrow,  on  the  far-off  intimations  of 
the  Divine,  has  chosen  the  better  part  which  shall  not 
be  taken  away  from  her.  If  any  of  us  now  look  back 
with  satisfaction  on  the  thought  that  in  former  days 
they  acknowledged  in  the  departed  the  conscientious 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


325 


endeavor  to  accomplish  the  duty  of  an  English  states- 
man, is  not  this  a  proof  that  such  expressions  were  in 
themselves  admirable,  and  that,  at  the  time,  we  were 
fortunate  to  have  given  them  vent?  Or  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  have  used  expressions  which  any  of  us 
now  regret,  if  we  were  so  immersed,  confined,  cribbed, 
and  cabined  within  our  own  narrow  views  as  to  have 
no  eyes  for  what  we  now  admire,  is  it  not  something  to 
have  had  a  wider  horizon  opened  before  us  in  which 
human  characters  appear  as  they  will  appear  in  the 
presence  of  the  All-just  and  the  All-merciful? 

Thirdly,  there  is  another  reflection  akin  to  this.  I 
have  several  times  spoken  from  this  place  of  the  hollow- 
ness  of  what  are  called  popular  judgments,  of  the  fu- 
tility of  seeking  after  popularity,  from  whatsoever  side 
it  comes.  Sometimes  popular  judgments  are  generous, 
sometimes  they  are  ungenerous ;  sometimes  they  are 
wise,  sometimes  they  are  foolish ;  sometimes  they  rest 
on  foundations  which  after  ages  may  approve,  some- 
times they  rest  on  absolutely  no  foundation  at  all. 
But  whether  generous  or  ungenerous,  wise  or  foolish, 
groundless  or  well  grounded,  they  are  in  all  cases 
worthless  themselves.  They  are  echoes,  and  not  voices. 
They  breathe  indeed  an  atmosphere  round  them,  which 
may  be  turned  to  good  or  evil  account  by  those  who 
have  the  control  of  human  affairs.  But  they  have  over 
and  over  again  been  proved  to  shift  with  every  gust  of 
feeling  and  fashion.  Witness  the  rapid  changes  in  the 
French  Revolution ;  the  hero  of  to-day,  the  rejected  of 
to-morrow ;  the  heresy  of  yesterday,  the  fixed  principle 
of  to-day.  Witness  the  changes  that  have  taken  place 
with  regard  to  persons  and  systems  in  our  own  time 
and  country.  Such  were  in  very  great  measure  the 
varying  opinions  respecting  him  who  is  gone.  There 
was  the  expression  of  strong  approval  some  years  ago ; 


326 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


there  was  the  expression  of  no  less  strong  disapproval  a 
year  ago ;  there  is  again  the  strong  expression  of  sym- 
pathy now,  almost  universal.  We  do  not  venture  to 
pronounce  which  of  these  various  judgments  most 
nearly  corresponds  with  the  truth.  What  is  certain  is 
that  this  popular  voice  has  represented  in  this  instance, 
as  in  a  thousand  other  instances,  widely  opposite  sides, 
and  that  it  is  to  other  than  popular  judgments  that  we 
must  refer  for  our  final  decision  on  the  characters  or 
the  events  that  come  before  us.  We  feel  now,  as  it 
were,  the  breath  of  genial  spring,  the  disappearance  of 
a  cutting  wind.  He  on  whom  the  favoring  breeze  now 
blows  would  have  rejoiced  in  its  gentle  airs,  but  not 
the  less  did  he  bravely  bear  the  blast  when  it  came  from 
an  opposite  quarter,  and  was  black  with  storm  and 
whirlwind.  So  it  must  be  alwa}ys.  Like  the  Fortune 
of  the  poet,  we  do  well  to  cherish  the  popular  voice 
whilst  it  goes  with  us,  we  do  well  to  bask  in  the  good- 
will of  our  fellow-men  and  our  fellow-citizens  whilst  it 
gives  its  great  and  often  just  impetus  to  our  natures. 
But  we  should  be  not  the  less  aware  of  its  fleeting  tran- 
sitory value  ;  we  should  be  able  to  puff  it  away  without 
a  sigh,  and  be  content  with  that  only  judgment  which 
is  truly  beyond  dispute,  the  judgment  of  our  own  con- 
science, the  judgment  of  Almighty  God,  who  judges  not 
as  man  judges,  and  who  trieth  the  very  secrets  of  the 
heart. 

Fourthly,  those  of  us  who  lament  over  the  departed, 
those  also  who  do  not  lament  over  him,  must  nerve  our- 
selves to  do  what  in  us  lies,  on  one  side  or  the  other  of 
political  life,  to  supply  the  qualities  which  we  imagine 
ourselves  to  have  lost  in  him.  It  was  said  on  the  occa- 
sion of  the  death  of  the  last  great  statesman  who  was 
cut  off  in  the  prime  and  vigor  of  life  that  the  darkest 
side  of  the  calamity  was  that  we  "  bitterly  thought  of 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


327 


the  morrow."  There  is  beyond  question  a  great  gulf 
and  void  created,  whenever  we  lose  one  who  has  filled 
a  vast  space  in  the  eyes  of  our  own  and  other  countries. 
It  disturbs  the  balance  of  power  and  parties,  it  changes 
the  hopes  and  the  fears  of  almost  every  class.  And  it 
is  not  only  in  the  camp  to  which  the  departed  states- 
man belonged  that  this  sense  of  a  vacancy  is  felt.  The 
great  statesmen,  the  acknowledged  leaders  of  parties, 
are  by  that  very  fact  raised  above  those  parties  them- 
selves. They  are,  in  fact,  much  more  nearly  allied  to 
each  other,  in  purpose  and  principle,  than  the  ordi- 
nary common-place  herd  who  form  the  rank  and  file  of 
their  supporters  would  suffer  us  to  believe.  The  great 
natures  of  Pitt  and  Fox,  widely  different  in  a  thousand 
points,  were  yet  bound  together  by  a  closer  kindred  in 
largeness  of  soul,  in  genuine  patriotism,  than  either  the 
one  or  the  other  could  allow  in  their  lifetime.  And  in 
like  manner  the  great  twin  brethren  of  our  own  day, 
though  in  all  their  varied  endowments  the  very  oppo- 
site of  each  other,  yet  each  supplied  what  the  other 
needed  ;  of  each  it  might  be  said  that 

Never  on  earthly  anvil 
Did  such  rare  armor  gleam. 

Each,  though  coming  from  widely  differing  hosts,  will, 
we  may  hope,  be  acknowledged  by  posterity  to  have 
fought  for  what  he  deemed  the  right  in  the  cause  of 
England's  empire  and  England's  commonwealth.  As 
was  finely  said  of  them  some  years  ago,  Castor  and 
Pollux  were  both  indispensable  to  us,  the  one  as  much 
as  the  other,  and  both  have  left  the  print  of  their  im- 
mortal hoofs  on  the  rock  of  the  Capitol.  If  one  was 
more  dexterous  in  training  his  forces,  and  the  other  was 
more  distinguished  in  attack,  both  will  be  recognized 
to  have  had  qualities  which  raised  them  into  a  region 


328 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


above  the  ordinary  strife,  and  made  their  combat  wor- 
thy the  combat  of  giants,  their  union,  in  that  which  is 
highest  and  noblest,  worthy  of  the  union  of  gods.  It 
is  these  godlike  qualities  we  can  all  of  us  admire  ;  it  is 
these  qualities  which  some  of  us  perchance  may  feebly 
imitate.  It  is  these  gifts  which  in  the  departed  (I  speak 
for  a  moment  only)  rose  above  every  narrow  section  of 
political  life.  Moderation  where  moderation  was  possi- 
ble, the  genius  which  knew  when  to  give  way  and  when 
to  resist,  the  passionate  love  of  the  honor  and  greatness 
of  England  ;  these  are  virtues  which  belong  to  no  party, 
which  may  at  times  be  exhibited  more  by  one  than  the 
other,  but  which  are  in  themselves  wholly  independent 
of  the  artificial  lines  that  divide  party  from  party,  and 
which  they  who  can  most  truly  claim  the  name  of  Eng- 
lish citizens  and  Christian  patriots  will  most  truly  honor, 
and,  when  gone,  most  deeply  lament. 

These  are  some  of  the  reasons  why  the  mourning  of 
the  Sovereign  and  of  all  the  people  for  the  great  man 
who  has  fallen  in  Israel  may  bear  fruit  in  every  class, 
whether  high  or  low,  whether  agreeing  or  disagreeing. 
He  rests  not  here.  A  tender  and  generous  feeling,  the 
expressed  wish  of  her  who  had  been  most  near  and  dear, 
drew  him  to  the  spot  where  he  now  reposes.  But  his 
name  will  live  amongst  us  here  to  remind  us  in  future 
days  of  the  extraordinary  career  which  led  the  alien  in 
race,  the  despised  in  debate,  the  romantic  adventurer,  the 
fierce  assailant,  the  eccentric  in  demeanor,  by  unflagging 
perseverance,  by  unfailing  sagacity,  by  unshaken  fidelity, 
by  constantly  increasing  dignity,  by  larger  and  larger 
breadth  of  view,  to  reach  the  highest  summits  of  fame 
and  splendor. 

In  the  intricate  entanglements  of  strife  and  thought, 
in  the  ever-shifting  fortunes  of  our  country,  so  great 
yet  so  little,  so  far  reaching  in  its  aims  yet  so  confined 


THE  EARL  OF  BEACONSFIELD. 


329 


in  its  immediate  action,  it  is  hardly  possible  to  forecast 
in  any  degree  the  future  which  is  in  store  for  us,  per- 
haps gloomy  with  disaster  and  shame,  perhaps  bright 
with  the  promise  of  unknown  glory.  The  words  with 
which  Milton  concludes  his  poem  on  the  death  of  that 
Jewish  warrior  with  whose  name  I  began  this  discourse, 
are  still  the  best  consolation  and  the  best  instruction 
for  us  to  bear  away  from  the  contemplation  of  one  of 
whom,  as  of  Samson,  it  may  be  said  in  the  widest  sense 
that  the  dead  which  he  slew  at  his  death  were  more  than 
they  which  he  slew  in  his  life :  — 

All  is  best,  though  we  oft  doubt 
What  the  unsearchable  dispose 
Of  Highest  Wisdom  brings  about, 
And  ever  best  found  in  the  close. 
Oft  He  seems  to  hide  His  face. 
But  unexpectedly  returns. 


His  servants  He,  with  new  acquist 
Of  true  experience  from  this  great  event, 
With  peace  and  consolation  hath  dismiss'd, 
And  calm  of  mind,  all  passion  spent. 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


St.  Andrew's  Day,  November  30,  1S74,  appointed  as  the  day  of  interces- 
sion for  Missions,  preparatory  to  the  Lecture  on  "The  Universal 
Keligion,"  delivered  in  the  nave  of  the  Abbey,  by  the  -Very  Rev. 
John  Caird,  D.D.,  Principal  of  the  University  of  Glasgow. 

He  first  findeth  his  own  brother  Simon.  — John  i.  41. 

It  has  been  vehemently  contested  whether  St.  An- 
drew's Day  was  a  fitting  day  to  choose  for  the  anniver- 
sary of  missions.  There  is,  however,  one  characteristic 
of  the  Apostle  which  brings  out  one  aspect  of  missions 
peculiarly  interesting  in  our  time,  and  on  which  I  will 
venture  for  a  few  moments  to  fix  attention. 

It  is  the  characteristic  contained  in  the  text  —  what 
we  may  call  the  principle  of  Christian  Fraternity ;  of 
Fraternity  not  in  that  indiscriminating  sense  in  which 
the  word  has  been  used  by  our  brilliant  neighbors  in 
their  times  of  revolution  —  a  sense  in  which  a  country- 
man 1  of  our  own  has  severely  and  forcibly  criticised  it 
—  the  sense  of  confounding  all  differences  of  institution, 
family,  rank,  country,  under  one  unmeaning  compliment. 
Not  in  this  sense,  but  in  the  almost  contrary  sense  of 
the  word  —  the  sense  of  recognizing,  first  and  foremost, 
before  all  other  ties,  the  bond  of  brotherhood,  of  neigh- 
borhood, of  likeness  and  homogeneousness  of  charac- 
ter and  principle.  "  He  first  findeth  his  own  brother 
Simon."'  Andrew,  the  first  Evangelist,  was  before  all 
else  a  good  brother.    In  the  great  church2  at  Rome, 

1  Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity.    By  J.  Fitzjames  Stephen. 

2  St.  Andrea  della  Valle. 

330 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


331 


which  is  dedicated  to  him,  no  other  inscription  could  be 
found  suitable,  except  "  Andrew,  the  brother  of  Peter." 
Before  casting  his  nets  here  and  there  on  Jew  or  Gen- 
tile, on  priest  or  publican,  he  first  bethought  him  of  the 
one  fellow-creature  who  was  near  to  him  by  the  ties  of 
home  and  family.  "Blood  is  thicker  than  water"  in 
sacred  as  well  as  in  social  life.  "  If  a  man  cares  not  for 
his  own  household,  how  shall  he  care  for  the  Church  of 
God  ?  "  "  If  a  man  loves  not  his  brother  "  —  his  nearest 
and  dearest  —  his  brother,  whom  he  sees  every  day  — 
"  how  can  he  love  God "  or  God's  scattered  children, 
"  whom  he  has  not  seen  ?  " 

This  is  a  principle  which  has  often  been  quoted  as  an 
argument  against  missions  altogether.  It  is  a  principle 
which  certainly  needs  to  be  constantly  re-asserted  as  a 
corrective  of  the  excesses  of  the  missionary  or  prose- 
lytising spirit ;  but  on  the  present  occasion  I  propose  to 
show  how  it  also  contains  within  itself  some  of  the  best 
methods  of  the  true  conversion  of  the  outside  world, 
even  whilst  it  seems  at  first  sight  to  withdraw  us  from 
it.  This  may  be  seen  under  three  separate  aspects  of 
the  subject. 

1.  It  exemplifies  the  undoubted  truth  that  the  best, 
the  most  permanent  mode  of  diffusing  Christianity  in 
the  world  is  by  enlightening,  purifying,  Christian  nations 
and  Christian  families  at  home,  by  converting  our  own 
countrymen,  our  own  brethren,  who  have  settled  abroad. 
It  has  been  well  said  that  the  chiefest  missionary  of  the 
.Apostles,  he  who  was  especially  the  Apostle  of  the  Gen- 
tiles, in  every  case  made  his  own  Jewish  countrymen 
the  nucleus  round  which  the  heathen  converts  were  to 
be  gathered.  Of  all  the  Epistles  of  St.  Paul,  there  is 
not  one  which  is  addressed  exclusively  to  Gentiles.  In 
every  city  he  first  found  his  own  brothers,  the  sons  of 
Israel.    In  every  church  that  he  founded,  it  is  to  them 


332 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


that  the  chief  of  his  arguments  are  addressed.  It  was 
part  of  what  we  may  call  the  Providential  preparation 
for  the  propagation  of  Christianity,  that  these  centres 
of  light  were  already  created,  by  the  vast  dispersion  of 
the  Jewish  settlers  in  every  province  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire. This  is  a  practical  lesson  for  all  of  us  in  respect 
of  foreign  missions.  Every  English  settler  in  a  distant 
land  is  already,  by  his  good  or  evil  conduct,  a  mission- 
ary for  God  or  for  the  devil ;  nay  more,  every  country 
in  Europe,  according  as  it  holds  up  Christianity  in  a 
repulsive  or  an  attractive  form,  repels  or  attracts  the 
outside  world  from  the  light  of  the  Gospel.  It  is  said 
that  some  of  the  Japanese  envoys  who  lately  visited 
the  nations  of  Europe  and  America  had  come  with  the 
predisposition  to  establish  Christianity  in  Japan  on  their 
return,  but  that  after  witnessing  its  actual  fruits  they 
in  disappointment  relinquished  the  project.  The  story 
may  be  true  or  false,  but  it  conveys  a  warning  which 
we  should  do  well  on  this  day  to  take  to  heart.  If  they 
had  seen  our  best  institutions,  our  best  hospitals,  our 
best  schools,  our  best  colleges ;  if  they  had  been  led  to 
regard  our  splendid  literature,  our  ancient  liberties,  our 
continuous  progress,  as  products  of  our  religion  ;  if  they 
had  been  led  to  admire  the  most  disinterested,  most 
generous,  most  truthful  characters  that  Christendom 
has  produced  —  then  we  cannot  but  think  that,  in  spite 
of  all  our  failures,  they  might  perhaps  have  felt  that  it 
would  be  worth  while  to  try,  in  their  distant  empire, 
the  great  experiment  which  has  here  produced  such 
magnificent  results.  But  if  they  had  been  present  at 
one  of  those  miscalled  holidays,  when  so  large  a  part 
of  our  population  is  given  up  to  drunkenness  or  degrad- 
ing vice ;  if  they  had  read  the  rancorous  animosities  of 
our  so-called  religious  journals ;  if  they  had  witnessed, 
throughout  Europe,  the  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


333 


education,  of  peace,  of  progress,  by  theological  passion 
and  prejudice ;  if  they  had  heard  in  our  own  country 
of  the  fierce  controversies  which  have  raged  on  the 
shape  of  a  vestment,  the  direction  of  a  face,  or  the  pla- 
cing of  a  table  —  we  could  hardly  be  surprised  at  their 
doubting  whether  it  was  worth  while  to  transplant  into 
their  own  country  a  religion  which,  by  its  own  adher- 
ents, was  identified  with  such  noxious  or  trifling  mat- 
ters. No :  let  us  first  find  and  convert  and  elevate  our 
own  brethren  and  our  own  kindred,  and  we  shall  then 
go  with  clean  hands  to  convert  the  Jew,  the  Turk,  the 
heretic,  and  the  infidel.  This  is  a  missionary  enterprise 
in  which  every  man,  woman,  and  child  who  hears  me 
can  bear  a  part.  Find  each  of  you  thine  own  brother 
—  each  of  you  is  his  brother's  keeper,  his  brother's 
guardian  —  make  thy  brother  better  than  thyself,  as 
good  as  thyself.  Be  good  thyself,  that  thy  brother 
may  learn  good  from  thee,  if  from  no  one  else.  In  this 
way  the  Home  Mission  becomes  the  mother  of  all  mis- 
sions ;  in  this  way  the  humblest  may  contribute  his 
mite  to  this  day's  solemnity. 

2.  But  the  same  principle  which  thus  fixes  our  main 
attention  on  our  own  immediate  circle,  also  points  out 
to  us  the  best  access  to  the  hearts  and  minds  of  the 
unknown  strangers  of  heathen  lands.  There,  too,  are 
to  be  found  our  own  brothers,  not  merely  in  that  gen- 
eral sense  in  which  sometimes,  with  indiscriminate 
generality,  all  mankind  are  called  our  brothers  —  but 
in  that  more  specific  sense  indicated  by  the  natural 
affection  with  which  Andrew  first  found  his  own 
brother  Simon.  In  every  heathen  country,  in  every 
savage  tribe,  there  are  those  whom  we  may  call  our 
own  brothers,  for  the  nobler  qualities  which  raise  them 
above  their  fellows,  and  bring  them  nearer  to  the 
civilized  and  the  Christian  type.    In  every  heart,  or 


334 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


almost  every  heart,  that  God  has  placed  in  the  human 
breast,  there  are  sentiments  which  correspond  to  ours, 
and  which  make  us  feel  that  those  to  whom  we  speak 
are  our  fellow-men  in  the  sight  of  God,  our  fellow- 
scholars  in  Christ  Jesus.  Often,  indeed,  this  fraternal 
sympathy  has  been  rendered  impossible  on  the  one 
hand  by  the  impurities,  the  cruelties,  the  follies  of 
heathen  nations,  on  the  other  hand  by  the  pitying 
scorn,  or  the  iniquitous  dealing,  with  which  the  Euro- 
pean, the  Christian,  even  the  missionary,  has  looked 
down  on  what  are  called,  in  one  sense  truly,  the  infe- 
rior races  of  mankind.  But  happy,  thrice  happy,  are 
those  Englishmen,  those  missionaries  who  have  taken  a 
more  generous  view  of  their  calling ;  who  have  made  it 
a  point  first  to  find  their  own  brothers  in  those  strange 
faces.  Such  was  the  philanthropic  spirit  of  the  long 
line  of  English  statesmen  and  governors  whom,  for  this 
reason,  David  Livingstone  hailed  as  the  best  of  mission- 
aries—  statesmen  who  labored  for  the  welfare  of  for- 
lorn and  distant  tribes  as  if  for  their  own  countrymen, 
governors  who  have  felt  that  there  were  moments  when 
their  brothers  were  discerned,  not  in  the  stronger  party 
that  cried  for  vengeance,  but  in  the  weaker  that  en- 
treated for  mercy.  Such  was  the  spirit  of  that  prince 
of  missionary  travellers  whom  I  named  just  now,  and 
who  lies  beneath  the  floor  of  this  Abbey;  who  was 
never  tired  of  repeating  that  he  found  amongst  the 
native  races  of  Africa  the  same  feelings  of  right  and 
wrong  that  he  found  in  his  own  conscience,  and  that 
needed  only  to  be  enlightened  and  developed  to  make 
the  perfect  Christian.  Such  an  one  was  that  martyr 
Bishop  of  Polynesia,1  who  won  the  hearts  of  his  simple 
converts  by  treating  them  as  his  children,  his  brothers, 
his  friends,  detecting  the  Christian  beneath  the  heathen, 

1  Bishop  Patteson. 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


335 


the  civilized  man  beneath  the  savage.  Such  an  one  (if 
I  may  for  a  moment  speak  of  one  who  in  this  respect, 
whatever  else  we  may  think  of  him,  stands  in  the  fore- 
most rank  of  living  missionaries)  is  that  South  African 
Bishop  1  who,  of  all  those  who  have  been  sent  to  that 
distant  land,  has  given  to  it  the  fullest  and  largest 
share  of  his  laborious  life ;  who  was  amongst  the  first 
of  the  Colonial  Bishops  to  translate  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures into  the  native  lan£uag'e  of  those  whom  he  was 

o  o 

sent  out  to  instruct ;  who,  by  dealing  with  his  simple 
converts  not  as  inferiors,  but  as  companions  and  fellow- 
scholars,  had  the  grace  to  learn  from  them  with  a  new 
force  some  old  truths,  which,  though  sometimes  pushed 
to  excess,  have  been,  in  essential  points,  almost  accepted 
at  home  ;  who  stands  conspicuous  amongst  the  mission- 
aries of  our  time  in  the  noble  self-forgetfulness  with 
which  he  has  sacrificed  his  dearest  prospects  and  sev- 
eral valuable  friendships,  cemented  by  the  most  trying 
circumstances,  in  order  to  vindicate  the  rights  of  a  bar- 
barous tribe,2  which  (whether  truly  or  not,  I  do  not 
here  pronounce)  he  believed  to  have  been  unjustly 
treated  through  the  misapprehension  or  the  misjudg- 
ment  of  his  fellow-colonists.  Such  a  sacrifice,  made 
fearlessly  and  freely,  whilst  others,  from  whatever 
motive,  either  kept  silence,  or  swelled  the  popular 
panic,  is  an  example  of  missionary  enterprise  and  of 
Christian  chivalry  which,  wholly  apart  from  any  ques- 
tion of  theological  opinion,  the  Church  of  England  is 
justly  proud  to  claim,  and  ought  on  this  day  (when  we 
call  over  as  it  were,  the  roll  of  missionary  martyrs  and 
confessors)  to  commend  to  the  honor  which  it  deserves 
on  earth,  and  which  it  will,  we  humbly  trust,  receive  in 
the  sight  of  Him  who  seeth  not  as  man  seeth  —  in  the 

1  Bishop  Colcnso. 

2  Lanr/alabalde  and  the  Amahlabi  Tribe.   By  the  Bishop  of  Natal. 


336 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


judgment  of  Him  who  has  said  of  any  kindness  done 
to  the  friendless  stranger,  even  though  he  be  an  Afri- 
can savage,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  unto  the 
least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  Me." 

3.  There  is  one  further  application  of  the  principle 
of  Christian  fraternity,  of  choosing  first  our  own 
brothers  as  fellow-disciples.  I  refer  to  the  duty,  obvi- 
ous, though  often  neglected,  of  seeking  for  our  co-oper- 
ators in  this,  as  in  all  good  works,  not  those  who  are 
far  away,  but  those  who  are  close  at  hand.  There  is  in 
this  congregation  at  this  moment  a  venerable  stranger 
from  distant  parts  —  the  Syrian  Patriarch  of  Antioch 
who  has  been  received  with  all  courtesy  and  respect  by 
the  authorities  of  our  Church,  but  with  whom  the  dif- 
ference of  manners  and  customs  and  language  precludes 
us  from  holding  any  other  than  the  most  outward  and 
formal  intercourse.  Most  Christian,  most  becoming 
was  the  welcome  which  has  been  given  to  that  aged 
representative  of  an  ancient  Church,  a  kindred  branch 
of  which  had  excited  sympathy  centuries  ago  in  the 
heart  of  the  Saxon  Alfred,  and  which,  in  our  own  day, 
wakened  a  spark  of  enthusiasm  in  the  poetic  soul  of 
Reginald  Heber.  Most  Christian,  most  becoming  has 
been  his  simple  yet  profound  reply  to  his  English  hosts 
—  "I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in."  Neverthe- 
less we  cannot  but  feel  that  this  and  all  like  manifesta- 
tions of  sympathy  must  be,  comparatively  speaking, 
transitory  and  external.  The  chiefs  of  far-off  com- 
munions, whether  in  the  Eastern  or  the  Latin  Church, 
can  be  co-operators  with  us  only  in  a  remote  and  sec- 
ondary sense.  Let  us  cultivate  by  all  means  a  friendly 
intercourse  with  them,  as  with  all  Christian  people 
throughout  the  world.  But  an  intimate,  organic  union 
can  only  be  with  those  who  are  near  at  hand,  or  of  the 
same  race  and  nation  and  culture  as  ourselves.  The 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


337 


divergence  of  sentiment,  language,  geographical  limits, 
outweighs  a  hundredfold  any  apparent  ground  of  union 
supplied  by  the  retention  of  a  form  of  the  Christian 
ministry,  which  in  name  only,  or  hardly  in  name, 
resembles  that  which  is  retained  by  ourselves.  Like 
Andrew,  we  must  first  find  out  our  brother  Simon, 
those  who  are  our  own  brothers  by  national  kinship,  by 
common  liberties,  common  traditions,  by  neighborhood, 
by  language,  by  inheritance  of  the  same  glories  of  the 
British  name,  the  same  aspirations  breathed  into  us  by 
the  Protestant  Reformation.  It  is  because  the  work  of 
evangelizing  the  heathen  has  a  direct  tendency  to  bring 
all  English  Christians  together  that  this  da}'  is  doubly 
blessed ;  blessed  alike  in  what  it  gives  and  in  what  it 
receives.  It  lays  upon  us  the  duty  of  finding  first  our 
own  brethren  of  the  same  flesh  and  the  same  blood,  to 
carry  on  the  task  which  no  others  can  equally  well 
execute  together,  because  with  all  our  divisions  we 
understand  each  other  better  than  we  understand  any 
one  else. 

Let  us  first  find  those  of  our  own  communion ;  let 
us  try  to  make  the  most  of  all  the  various  schools  and 
shades  of  thought  which  make  up  our  national  Church; 
remembering  that  each  supplies  something  which  the 
other  lacks,  and  that  only  by  their  joint  co-operation 
can  the  Church  attain  the  likeness  of  that  great  Apos- 
tle who  was  all  things  to  all  men.  Our  differences  may 
be  wide  and  deep,  but  they  are  not  wider  or  deeper 
than  those  which  have  always  existed  in  every  civilized 
Church,  not  so  wide  or  deep  as  they  are  at  this  mo- 
ment in  that  portion  of  Western  Christendom  (the 
Roman  Church)  which  has  been  accustomed  the  most 
to  pride  itself  on  its  outward  unity.  Let  our  first 
effort,  therefore,  be,  before  we  go  far  and  wide  for  other 
fellow-workers,  to  make  the  most  of  the  fellow-workers 


338 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


we  have  at  hand  in  our  own  Church  —  our  own  laity, 
our  own  clergy,  our  own  bishops,  through  all  the  vari- 
ous shades  of  English  feeling  and  thought. 

But  next  to  our  own  Church,  and  before  any  combi- 
nations with  foreign  Christians,  however  estimable,  let 
us  find  out  our  own  brethren  in  the  British  Islands, 
who,  however  parted  from  us,  through  the  misfortune  or 
the  misconduct  of  their  ancestors  or  ours,  are  yet  heirs 
of  the  same  national  traditions  and  of  -  the  same  inspir- 
ing future.  Such  are  our  brethren  amongst  the  Non- 
conforming communions  of  England,  whose  praise  for 
their  missionary  zeal,  even  if  sometimes  not  according 
to  knowledge,  is  in  all  the  Churches ;  whose  sympathy 
in  this,  as  in  all  good  works,  is  dear  to  every  Church- 
man ;  whose  "  watchful  jealousy,"  if  so  it  be,  it  is  oars 
to  disarm  by  frank  generosity  and  straightforward  cour- 
tesy and  equal  dealing. 

And  yet  once  more.  Foremost  amongst  those  who, 
being  thus  divided  from  us,  yet  are  one  with  us,  let  us 
name  the  sister  Church  of  Scotland ;  like  our  own,  the 
Church  of  the  nation ;  like  our  own,  a  Church  recog- 
nized both  in  solemn  prayer  and  legislative  enactments ; 
like  our  own,  if  I  may  venture  so  to  magnify  ourselves, 
abounding  in  works  of  active  charit}',  of  enlightened 
faith,  of  Christian  tolerance.  On  this  day,  St.  An- 
drew's Daj-,  the  day  of  Scotland's  national  saint,  whose 
bones,  according  to  the  ancient  legend,  were  believed 
to  have  drifted  without  oar  or  sail  to  the  rocky  head- 
land which  now  bears  his  name ;  the  cross  of  whose 
martyrdom  on  the  shores  of  Achaia  is  still  emblazoned 
on  the  escutcheon  of  the  northern  kingdom ;  on  this 
day,  which  in  both  Churches  is  observed  for  the  same 
sacred  missionary  cause,  I  have  thought  that  I  should 
best  be  acting  in  accordance  with  the  principle  which 
I  have  endeavored  to  set  forth,  and  with  the  exigencies 


CHRISTIAN  FRATERNITY. 


339 


of  the  times  in  which  we  live,  by  invoking  the  assist- 
ance of  the  wisdom  and  the  learning  of  the  chief  of 
the  greatest  Scottish  University,  the  first  preacher  and 
theologian  of  the  Scottish  national  Church.  As  last 
year  we  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  distinguished  Ger- 
man scholar 1  who  had  explored  the  depths  of  heathen 
religions  and  of  primeval  language,  so  this  year  we 
shall  hope  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  our  own  country- 
man,2 who  has  explored  as  few  else  in  this  island,  on 
the  one  hand,  the  "  Religion  of  Common  Life,"  and  on 
the  other  hand,  the  links  which  bind  together  Philoso- 
phy and  Christianity  in  that  indissoluble  unity  which 
can  alone  win  for  the  glad  tidings  which  we  profess  to 
carry  throughout  the  world  a  solid  basis  and  a  perma- 
nent triumph  —  the  promise  of  the  life  that  now  is  and 
of  that  which  is  to  come. 

1  Professor  Max  Miiller. 

2  The  Very  Rev.  John  Caird,  D.D.,  Principal  of  the  University  of 
Glasgow. 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 

St.  Andrew's  Day,  November  30,  1877,  being  the  day  of  intercession  for 
Missions  ;  preparatory  to  an  Address  on  "  Missions  "  in  the  nave,  by 
the  Rev.  John  Stoughton,  D.D.,  Professor  of  Historical  Theology  in 
the  Independent  College,  Hampstead. 

In  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  round  about  the  throne,  were  four 
"living  creatures,"  full  of  eyes,  before  and  behind.  And  the  first 
"living  creature"  was  like  a  lion,  and  the  second  "living  creature" 
was  like  a  calf,  and  the  third  "living  creature"  had  a  face  as  a  man, 
and  (he  fourth  " living  creature"  was  like  a  flying  eagle. — Revela- 
tion iv.  C,  7. 

There  is  an  argument  often  used  against  Christian 
Missions  which  is  supposed  to  be  fatal  to  their  effect. 
It  is  said  that  the  natives  of  heathen  countries  are  dis- 
turbed by  the  various  forms  under  which  Christianity 
is  presented  to  them,  and  that  it  is,  therefore,  difficult 
for  them  to  accept  as  true  what  appears  under  such 
diverse  and  sometimes  rival  aspects. 

It  is  an  argument  which  is  also  used  at  home  in  favor 
of  suppressing  these  different  forms,  as  far  as  possible, 
and  substituting  for  them  some  one  system  which  shall 
supersede  all  the  others. 

This  objection,  if  sound,  would  strike  at  the  very 
root  of  all  missions  as  they  now  exist,  and  it  may, 
therefore,  be  worth  while  to  meet  it ;  and  the  more  so 
as  the  statement  of  the  counter  principle  is  full  of  edi- 
fying reflections. 

So  far  from  its  being  the  case  that  a  uniform  or  abso- 
lutely homogeneous  statement  of  the  truth  is  necessary 

340 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


341 


for  all  times  and  circumstances,  the  whole  structure  of 
the  Bible  is  a  direct  testimony  to  the  contrary  posi- 
tion ;  namely,  that  there  are,  as  St.  Paul  says,  diversi- 
ties of  gifts,  of  ministrations,  of  operations,  through 
which  the  same  Father  reigns,  the  same  Lord  is  served, 
the  same  Spirit  works ;  that  Divine  light  can  only  be 
received  in  the  world  through  the  refractions,  as  St. 
Peter  says,  of  "  many  colors  and  many  shapes  "  —  de- 
livered, as  the  author  of  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
says,  in  "many  parts  and  in  many  fashions"* — repre- 
sented, as  St.  John  represents  it,  by  the  widest  diver- 
sity of  figures  that  the  prophetic  imagination  could 
conceive ;  image  upon  image,  metaphor  upon  meta- 
phor ;  not  one  lamp,  but  seven ;  not  the  throne  only, 
but  the  rainbow ;  not  the  sight  only  of  sapphire  or  of 
emerald,  but  the  sound  of  thunder  and  trumpet,  and 
the  roar  of  many  waters ;  the  Supreme  Unity  encom- 
passed and  surrounded  by  venerable  sages,  and  strange 
animals,  and  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  heavenly 
messengers. 

Amongst  those  figures,  that  which  I  have  chosen  for 
my  text  has  been  consecrated  by  the  long  usage  of  the 
Church  to  the  special  subject  of  the  evangelization  of 
mankind.  The  four  Living  Creatures  which  surround 
the  throne  of  God  have,  fancifully  perhaps,  yet  not 
without  a  profound  meaning,  been  appropriated  by 
early  tradition  to  the  four  Evangelists.  In  ancient  times 
there  was  no  fixed  appropriation  of  these  several  im- 
ages, each  to  each.  It  was  only  the  general  fact  of  the 
fourfold  figure  that  suggested  the  comparison.  The 
man,  the  lion,  the  calf,  and  the  eagle,  so  entirely  unlike 
each  other  in  form  and  aspect,  have  been  assigned  in 
varying  degrees  to  St.  Matthew,  St.  Mark,  St.  Luke, 
and  St.  John.  But  this  diversity  truly  represents  the 
divergence  of  the  four  delineations  which  the  Gospels 


342 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


contain  of  the  Saviour's  life  and  character.  It  might 
have  been  that  they  should  all  have  been  fused  into 
one ;  it  might  have  been  that  the  peculiar  traits  or 
ideas  represented  respectively  in  the  four  Evangelists 
should  have  been  altogether  suppressed,  that  so  the 
world  might  have  been  saved  the  perplexities  and 
stumbling-blocks  which  the  strange  contradictions  and 
varieties  of  the  several  accounts  have  left  to  trouble 
the  mind  of  Christendom.  But  it  was  not  so  ordered ; 
and  in  spite  of  these  momentary  difficulties,  we  may 
well  be  thankful  that  the  fourfold  picture  has  been 
allowed  to  remain,  and  that  the  world  has  been  left  to 
explore  and  to  reconcile,  as  best  it  may,  these  widely 
differing  reports. 

What  is  thus  exemplified  in  the  case  of  the  four 
Evangelists  has  more  or  less  continued  in  the  work  of 
evangelization  ever  since.  Vehement  as  have  been  the 
attempts  to  reduce  into  one  single  system  the  various 
modes  by  which  Christian  doctrines  or  Christian  insti- 
tutions have  been  developed,  human  nature  and  Divine 
grace  have  been  too  strong  to  be  bound  in  any  such 
artificial  restraints ;  and  those  portions  of  mankind 
which  lie  outside  the  Christian  pale  have  no  just  cause 
to  complain  of  the  sameness  of  the  points  of  view  from 
which  the  message  of  the  Gospel  has  been  conveyed  to 
them. 

In  the  seraphic  hymn  which  in  the  services  of  the 
Eastern  Church  forms  one  of  the  most  solemn  parts  of 
the  Communion  office,  the  words  in  which  praise  is  ex- 
pressed have,  by  the  singular  richness  of  the  Russian 
language,  been  represented  by  four  phrases,  which,  whilst 
they  all  contain  the  same  common  idea  of  thanksgiving, 
enable  the  hearers,  as  it  were,  to  catch,  through  the  con- 
cordant music,  sounds  as  of  the  roaring  of  a  lion,  as  of 
the  scream  of  an  eagle,  as  of  the  bellowing  of  an  ox,  and 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


343 


as  of  the  speech  of  a  man.  This  well  explains  to  us  the 
general  effect  which  may  be,  which  ought  to  be,  and 
which  to  a  large  extent  has  been  conveyed  to  the  world, 
by  the  diversity  and  the  unity  of  Christendom. 

No  doubt  to  a  mere  childish  or  barbarian  intellect 
the  idea  of  such  complexity  is  difficult  to  grasp ;  but 
after  all,  in  presenting  to  uncivilized  or  half-civilized 
nations  the  truths  of  a  religion,  which,  if  it  be  any  thing, 
ought  to  correspond  with  the  results  of  the  highest  civ- 
ilization, we  must  be  content  to  trust  ourselves  in  some 
degree  to  the  common  sense  and  common  reason  of 
mankind,  which,  even  in  the  most  barbarous  races,  is 
not  wholly  extinguished ;  and,  when  such  an  objection 
is  brought  forward,  it  must  be  met,  as  many  other 
objections  are  to  be  met,  not  by  acquiescing  in  the  stu- 
pidity or  perversity  of  those  we  address,  but  by  appeal- 
ing to  the  highest  light  that  is  in  them,  and  drawing  the 
lessons  which  they  themselves  might  acknowledge  in 
their  common  experience. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  offence  given  in  the  eyes  of 
heathen  nations  by  the  differences  of  Christendom,  is 
in  great  measure  occasioned  not  by  the  mere  fact  of 
those  differences,  but  by  the  fierce  rivalries,  and  unhal- 
lowed jealousies,  and  overleaping  ambitions  by  which 
different  phases  or  forms  of  Christianity  have  attacked 
and  endeavored  to  absorb  each  other  in  the  race  of  pros- 
elytism.  These  inhuman  passions  are  justly  calculated 
to  alienate  the  unsophisticated  consciences,  whether  of 
civilized  or  of  savage  heathendom  ;  but  they  would 
be  equally  odious  even  though  there  were  not  a  single 
heathen  to  be  converted.  They  are  amongst  the  vices 
of  Christian  society,  like  drunkenness,  gambling,  im- 
purity, such  as  we  have  been  told  have  in  our  Australian 
colonies  provoked  an  army  of  Brahmin  missionaries  to 
the  good  work  of  endeavoring  to  convert  our  benighted 


344 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


fellow-countrymen  —  in  these  respects  truly  benighted 
—  to  a  better  and  purer  life.  But  these  are  quite 
another  matter  from  the  innocent  divisions  which  have 
parted  Churches  from  each  other.  k*  It  is  not,"  as  was 
well  said  by  an  excellent  Nonconformist,  who  was  edu- 
cated within  these  walls  two  centuries  ago,  "it  is  not 
the  actual  differences  that  do  the  mischief,  but  the  mis- 
management of  those  differences."  In  point  of  fact  it 
has  been  found  that  Christian  missionaries  in  heathen 
parts  do  for  the  most  part  forget  their  divisions  in  the 
face  of  the  heathen.  It  was  the  testimony  of  the  Re- 
port presented  to  both  Houses  of  Parliament  in  1872, 
that,  "  from  the  nature  of  their  work,  and  from  their 
isolated  position,  they  co-operate  heartily  together,  and 
that,  with  few  exceptions,  it  is  a  fixed  rule  among  them 
that  they  will  not  interfere  with  each  other's  converts 
or  each  other's  spheres  of  duty." 

We  propose,  therefore,  to  guard  against  the  growth 
of  these  exceptions,  and  to  uphold  this  fixed  rule ;  to 
show  that,  so  f.:r  from  such  a  diversity  being  contrary 
to  the  genius  of  Christianit}-,  it  was  involved  in  the  reli- 
gion of  our  Divine  Founder  from  the  very  beginning; 
that  so  far  from  its  being  a  reasonable  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  its  reception,  it  ought  to  be  one  of  the  chief 
commendations  cf  it  to  the  reception  of  those  to  whom 
it  is  addressed. 

Let  me  illustrate  this  position  by  several  great  exam- 
ples in  the  history  of  Christian  missions. 

(1.)  Let  us  first  take  the  diversity  of  creeds.  When 
we  consider  how  variously  constituted  are  the  powers 
cf  human  apprehension,  how  mixed  are  the  ingredients 
out  of  which  any  human  representations  of  truth  are 
composed,  it  is  an  almost  inevitable  result  that  every 
creed  and  confession  of  faith  which  Christendom  has 
produced  must  partake  of  that  mingled,  complex,  and 


Diversity  in  unity. 


345 


imperfect  character  which  belongs  to  human  speech  and 
human  thought.  No  one  creed  or  confession  can  claim 
absolute  truth ;  or,  even  if  it  does  claim  absolute  truth, 
it  cannot  claim  to  represent  the  exact  form  of  truth 
which  will  be  most  opportune  for  each  varying  country. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  some  truths  so  divine,  so  trans- 
parent, so  universal,  that  even  the  imperfections  to 
which  we  have  referred  can  hardly  obscure  their  bril- 
liancy ;  there  are  some  falsehoods  so  absurd,  so  mis- 
chievous, so  narrow,  that  even  the  most  uneducated 
conscience  might  be  expected  to  reject  them  if  they 
stood  alone  ;  but  what  has  usually  happened  is,  that 
these  truths  and  these  falsehoods,  though  not  in  the 
same  proportion,  have  become  inextricably  mixed  to- 
gether, and  thus  the  imperfection  of  one  creed  is  almost 
of  necessity  rectified  by  some  countervailing  clause  in 
another.  To  use  a  homely  proverb,  "  It  is  not  safe  to 
put  all  our  eggs  into  one  basket."  This  is  a  maxim  of 
common  life :  it  is  not  less  a  rule  for  the  evangelization 
of  the  world.  And  how  remarkably  is  this  borne  out  if 
we  look  on  a  large  scale  at  the  conversion  of  mankind ! 

Who  was  it  that  evangelized  our  ancestors,  the  Gothic 
tribes  of  Northern  Europe  ?  It  was  Ulfilas,  an  Arian 
bishop ;  a  missionary,  that  is  to  say,  who  adhered  to  a 
particular  form  of  the  Christian  faith  which,  at  the  time 
when  he  lived,  was  denounced  with  the  severest  penal- 
ties, both  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  by  the  then  rulers  of 
the  Catholic  Church,  and. which  has  long  ago  become 
extinct  in  every  part  of  the  world.  But  from  him  was 
derived  the  first  translation  of  the  Scriptures  into  our 
own  mother  tongue  —  the  precursor  of  the  versions  of 
Wycliffe,  of  Luther,  of  Tvndale,  and  of  our  own  pres- 
ent English  Bibles.  He  was  the  Moses,  as  he  was 
called,  the  leader  and  deliverer  of  our  Gothic  ancestors  ; 
the  precursor  of  Augustine  and  Boniface  and  Adelbert. 


346 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


And  who  was  it  that  established  the  first  missions 
through  the  whole  of  Central  Asia,  the  great  exception 
to  the  usual  lethargy  of  the  Eastern  Church  ?  It  was 
the  Nestorian  Christians,  the  Christians  who  clung  to 
the  faith  of  the  once  persecuted,  exiled,  and  detested 
Nestorius. 

And  who  was  it  that  in  later  days  conveyed  the  first 
germs  of  the  Christian  faith  to  the  vast  tribes  of  India 
and  of  China  ?  Whose  name  is  it  that  is  still  invoked, 
as  I  am  told,  by  the  boatmen  of  Madras  as  they  dash 
through  the  perilous  waves  which  encircle  their  surf- 
beaten  shores?  It  was  Francis  Xavier,  the  representa- 
tive, not  merely  of  the  Roman  Church,  but  of  that  most 
repulsive  and  offensive  phase  of  the  Roman  Church,  the 
Society  of  Jesuits. 

And  who  was  it  that  first  undertook  the  colonization 
and  Christianization  of  Greenland,  with  its  unpromis- 
ing races,  its  ungenial  climate,  its  dark  future  ?  It  was 
the  simple-minded  Moravians,  whose  principles  and 
whose  tenets  were  even  more  different  from  those  of 
Ulfilas,  or  of  Francis  Xavier,  and  of  the  Nestorians,  than 
any  of  these  from  each  other. 

And  yet,  not  only  did  these  several  agencies  succeed 
in  presenting  Christianity  in  a  shape  which  more  or  less 
struck  root  in  these  diverse  countries ;  but  as  we  look 
back  on  their  distant  laboi's  —  distant  both  in  time 
and  space  —  we  must  acknowledge  that  they  were  sev- 
erally the  fountain-heads  from  which  the  native  Chris- 
tianity of  Europe,  of  Asia,  and  of  North  America,  has 
received  the  fullest  streams  of  Christian  life. 

(2.)  Again,  let  us  leave  the  question  of  the  diversity 
of  creeds,  and  look  at  the  diversities  of  organization. 
From  very  early  times,  Episcopacy  was  regarded  as  the 
'  one  outward  channel  through  which  the  evangelization 
as  well  as  the  ordinary  government  of  the  Church  was 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


347 


to  be  carried  on.  Baptism,  preaching,  marriage  —  noth- 
ing could  be  done  without  the  bishop.  But  it  was  not 
long  before  immense  exceptions  began  to  be,  as  it  were, 
scooped  out  of  the  Episcopal  system. 

In  a  large  part  of  Europe  the  chief  work  of  proclaim- 
ing the  Gospel,  and  its  concomitant  message  of  civiliza- 
tion, to  the  unconverted  or  half-converted  races,  was 
conducted,  not  by  bishops,  but  by  presbyters  —  by  those 
presbyters  who,  under  the  name  of  abbots  and  monks, 
carried  on  their  work,  not  only  irrespectively,  but  inde- 
pendently of,  and  above,  the  Episcopate.  Such  was 
Columba,  the  apostle  of  Scotland.  Such,  during  the 
larger  part  of  his  missionary  career,  was  Cuthbert  of 
Lindisfarne.  Such  was  Columbanus,  the  apostle  of 
Burgundy.  Such  was  St.  Gall,  the  apostle  of  Switzer- 
land. Such  was  St.  Benedict,  the  founder  of  that  great 
Benedictine  order  which  was  for  centuries  the  chief 
nurse  of  learning  and  culture  in  Europe. 

In  like  manner  in  our  own  later  days,  in  the  Churches 
of  the  Reformation,  the  first  attempt  to  evangelize  our 
heathen  dependencies  was  maintained  and  executed, 
not  by  the  regular  Episcopal  system,  so  well  suited  as 
it  is  to  our  wants  at  home,  but  by  the  great  societies, 
called  by  diverse  names,  through  which,  irregularly, 
perhaps,  but  not  with  any  greater  irregularity  than  the 
system  of  Columba  or  Benedict,  the  light  of  Christian 
truth  was  handed  on  by  a  succession  of  noble-minded 
torch-bearers,  whose  torches  flamed  not  the  less  brightly 
because  they  were  shaken  in  the  winds  of  a  wide  and 
unlimited  field,  and  not  confined  within  the  more  re- 
stricted limits  of  a  constant  supervision. 

Those  who  knew  India  in  former  days  used  to  tell 
us  that,  great  as  were  the  advantages  produced  by  the 
more  complete  organization  introduced  through  the 
foundation  of  the  Anglo-Indian  Episcopate,  yet  still 


348 


DIVERSITY  EN  UNITY. 


there  was  a  fire  and  a  fervor  enkindled  by  the  wander- 
ing lives  of  Schwartz  and  his  contemporaries,  which  we 
vainly  seek  for  in  our  more  orderly  generation.  We 
would  not  for  a  moment  disparage  the  benefits  con- 
ferred on  English  Churchmen  settled  in  those  regions 
by  the  establishment  of  a  regular,  unfailing  supply  of 
pastors  and  chief  pastors,  whose  function  was  specially 
to  raise  up  and  foster  in  our  English  settlers  those  who, 
after  all,  must,  by  their  lives  and  examples,  be  the  true 
missionaries  of  Christianity  to  the  heathen.  We  do 
not  underrate  the  blessing  of  prelates,  who,  by  the  win- 
ning grace  of  a  Heber,  or  the  long-continued  devotion 
of  a  Wilson,  or  the  wise  and  fatherly  counsel  of  a  Cot- 
ton, or  the  indefatigable  zeal  of  a  Milman,  became,  as 
it  were,  the  patriarchs  of  Indian  missions  of  whatsoever 
persuasion.  But  still,  any  attempt  to  disparage,  over- 
rule, and  override  the  efforts  of  those  societies  which 
have  performed  in  our  time  a  work  corresponding  to 
that  effected  by  the  great  monastic  orders  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  implies,  not  merely  a  want  of  evangelical  large- 
ness of  heart,  but  an  ignorance  of  those  ecclesiastical 
principles  which  acted  so  large  a  part  in  the  conversion 
of  modern  Europe. 

(3.)  Again,  there  is  an  analogous  difference  of  organ- 
ization with  which  we  are  more  familiar  at  home,  but 
which  must  be  allowed  to  play  freely  its  part  also  in 
the  distant  countries  of  the  world.  There  has  been  in 
this  country,  since  the  Reformation,  an  acknowledged 
divergence  in  the  mode  of  disseminating  truth  which 
may  be  described,  if  I  may  use  the  expressive  language 
of  a  highly  valued  brother  ecclesiastic,  as  "the  public 
and  the  private  way."  "  The  public  way "  is  that 
whereby  the  nation  has  taken  advantage  of  an  organ- 
ization which  has  come  down  with  much  continuity, 
although  with  much  discontinuity,  from  the  earliest 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


349 


times  of  our  history ;  which  is  controlled  by  national 
laws,  which  is  guarded  by  national  principles,  which  is 
regarded  as  on  the  whole  the  exponent  of  the  national 
faith.  This  is  the  system  which  by  various  names  is 
called  the  Established  Church,  the  National  Church, 
the  Church  of  England.  But,  side  by  side  with  this, 
there  is  another  "way"  in  which  individuals  fired  with 
peculiar  zeal,  or  endowed  with  peculiar  gifts,  have  taken 
advantage  of  the  liberty  gradually  and  increasingly  left 
by  the  nation  to  those  who  deviate  from  the  more  pub- 
lic and  established  system ;  a  way  in  which,  partly  by 
their  own  special  energies,  partly  by  founding  new 
organizations,  which  have  themselves  in  the  course  of 
time  become  a  mixture  of  the  more  public  and  the  more 
private  s}rstems,  they  have  filled  up  the  deficiencies  and 
increased  the  usefulness  of  that  larger  and  more  compre- 
hensive institution  intended  to  cover  the  whole  nation. 

By  these  two  channels  the  flood  of  Christian  doctrine 
and  civilization  has  forced  its  way  through  our  own 
land.  On  one  side  we  see,  as  it  were,  a  majestic  river, 
swollen  with  many  tributaries,  bearing  on  its  bosom 
stately  fleets,  feeding  populous  cities  which  else  would 
languish,  fertilizing  large  tracts  which  else  would  wither 
and  die ;  on  the  other  side  we  see  foaming  torrents 
penetrating  through  rocks  wdiich  perchance  nothing 
else  could  break,  attracting  attention  by  the  roar  of 
cataracts  which  arouse  the  most  heedless  ear,  forcing 
their  way  into  devious  corners  which  lie  outside  the 
main  current  of  the  larger  stream.  And  what  has  been 
productive  of  such  beneficent  results  at  home,  cannot 
but,  we  believe,  be  capable  of  like  results  abroad. 
Wherever  the  two  systems  come  into  contact,  it  is 
surely  the  dictate  at  once  of  Christian  wisdom  and  of 
Christian  charity,  that  each  should  use  the  other  as  its 
best  and  indispensable  ally. 


350 


DIVERSITY  IK  UNITY. 


In  former  times  it  was  the  temptation  of  the  public 
national  form  of  religion  to  repress  and  suppress  by 
legislative  enactments  the  private  utterances  of  Non- 
conformity. In  our  times  it  is  the  temptation  of  the 
Nonconforming  elements  of  religion  to  endeavor  to 
repress,  and  suppress  by  legislative  enactments,  all  ex- 
pression of  the  public  and  national  form.  The  means 
adopted  in  the  two  cases  are  different,  but  the  end 
sought  is  the  same.  In  either  case,  the  error  was  and 
is  equally  impolitic,  equally  illiberal.  Let  us  hope 
better  things  for  the  age  that  is  coming.  Let  us  re- 
member, both  at  home  and  abroad,  the  speech  of  Abram 
to  Lot  —  "  Is  not  the  whole  land  before  thee  ?  If  thou 
wilt  take  the  left  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the  right ;  or 
if  thou  depart  to  the  right  hand,  then  I  will  go  to  the 
left."  Let  us  remember  the  same  maxim  translated 
into  the  language  of  the  Apostle  —  "  We  will  not  boast 
in  another  man's  line  of  things  made  ready  to  our 
hand."  "  Every  way,  whether  in  pretence  or  in  truth," 
whether,  we  may  add,  by  a  public  or  a  private  way, 
"  Christ  is  preached ;  and  I  therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and 
will  rejoice."  "  Why,  when  both  organizations  exist," 
so  it  has  been  pertinently  asked,  "why  should  one  of 
the  two  be  taken  from  us  ?  "  In  point  of  fact,  the  con- 
tributions to  missions,  so  far  as  we  can  judge  from  sta- 
tistics, bear  out  this  conclusion,  that  not  by  repression 
of  variety,  but  by  encouragement  of  variety,  is  the 
chief  result  produced.1 

In  the  British  dominions,  the  largest  amount  is  con- 
tributed by  the  Church  of  England,  that  is  to  say,  the 
communion  in  Avhich,  our  enemies  themselves  being  our 
judges,  the  largest  diversity  of  thought  exists  and  is 
allowed.    It  is  500,000/.   The  next  largest  contribution 

1  "  Church  and  Dissent,"  in  Quarterly  Review,  cxxx.  452,  ascribed  to 
the  Dean  of  St.  Paul's. 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


351 


is  that  of  the  Nonconformists,  who  are  also  a  very 
mixed  body.  It  is  nearly  400,000/.  But  the  contribu- 
tions from  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  which  refuses 
to  acknowledge  any  such  diversity,  throughout  the 
whole  world  amount  only  to  one-quarter  of  what  is 
collected  by  the  various  Protestant  Churches  and  socie- 
ties within  the  United  Kingdom  alone,  and  the  sum 
collected  from  British  churches  of  the  Roman  persua- 
sion does  not  amount  to  T^OOZ.1 

No  doubt  the  Church  of  Rome  and  the  Protestant 
Churches  have  each  their  separate  grooves.  But  in  the 
generous  efforts  for  the  cause  of  missions,  it  would  seem 
that  the  freedom  of  the  Reformation  has  been  far  more 
potent  than  the  authority  of  the  Papal  See.  It  would 
seem  further  that  if  either  the  Church  of  England  were 
destroyed,  according  to  the  wishes  of  some  ardent  Non- 
conformists, or  Nonconformity  absorbed,  according  to 
the  wishes  of  some  ardent  Churchmen,  the  cause  of 
Christian  missions  would  grievously  suffer. 

(4.)  There  is  yet  one  further  exemplification  of  the 
principle,  which  lies  behind  all  the  others ;  namely,  the 
effect  of  the  differences,  deeply  rooted  and  ineradicable, 
of  human  character  and  pursuits.  The  fierceness  of 
the  lion,  the  rapidity  of  the  eagle,  the  strength  of  the 
ox,  the  intelligence  of  the  man,  are  not  more  strongly 
impressed  on  the  differences  between  Arian  and  Catholic, 
Greek  and  Latin,  Roman  and  Protestant  Churchmen 
and  Dissenters,  than  they  are  on  the  deep  lines  of 
demarcation  which  divide  the  studious  scholar,  the  soar- 
ing philosopher,  the  bold  warrior,  the  zealous  pastor, 
each  from  each ;  and  yet  every  one  of  these  distinct 
characters  may,  through  the  one  Divine  Spirit  working 
in  each,  be  brought  to  bear  on  the  world  of  sin  and 

1  British  Contributions  to  Foreign  Missions  in  the  year  1810,  by  th9  Rev. 
"W.  A.  Scott  Robertson,  M.A. 


352 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


ignorance,  as  confident!}-  as  though  each  one  existed  by 
itself.  The  barbarian,  the  heathen,  the  Mohammedan, 
the  Hindoo,  are  not  distracted  by  these  divergencies  of 
character.  They  are  rather  drawn  towards  the  central 
fire  which  gives  to  each  of  them  its  life  and  energy. 

And  it  is  this  necessity  of  the  joint  action  of  the 
most  diverse  elements  of  character  which  throws  such  a 
power  and  such  a  responsibility  on  all  of  us.  No  one, 
whether  in  England  or  in  foreign  countries,  can  say 
that  he  is  freed  from  any  concern  in  missionary  influ- 
ence. Every  one,  prince  or  peasant,  soldier  or  settler, 
has  his  own  influence,  even  although  he  may  never 
have  opened  his  lips  as  a  preacher.  I  have  seen  pic- 
tures cf  a  distinguished  English  ruler,  Sir  Donald 
M'Leod,  I  have  heard  of  another  of  a  gallant  soldier, 
General  Nicholson,  in  which  the  Hindoos  represent 
them,  with  their  British  costume,  and  with  their  genu- 
ine English  features,  in  the  attitude  of  their  own  divini- 
ties, to  whom  they  are  offering  worship  and  sacrifice. 
And  what  was  it  that  won  for  them  this  adoring  re- 
spect, that  made  these  poor  heathens  feel  that  these 
Englishmen  were  superior  beings  —  messengers  of 
heaven  ?  It  was  simply  this :  they  knew  them  to  be 
thoroughly  just,  thoroughly  truthful,  thoroughly  chaste. 
Who  is  there  that  cannot  help  in  producing  this  holy, 
this  Divine  impression  ?  Is  there  any  one,  however  far 
removed  by  office  or  character  from  ordinary  clerical 
or  missionary  life,  who  cannot  strive  by  stainless  honor 
and  purity  to  convince  the  heathen  "of  sin,  of  right- 
eousness, and  of  judgment  "  ? 

These,  then,  are  some  exemplifications  of  the  mani- 
fold grace  of  God  in  the  work  of  evangelization. 

The  Proteus  of  human  nature,  as  Lord  Bacon  happily 
allegorizes  the  ancient  fable,  and  as  it  has  been  finely 
drawn  out  of  late  by  an  eminent  physician,  will  go 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


353 


through  many  shapes  before  he  will  speak  at  last  the 
words  of  the  heaven-sent  seer.  But  this  is  the  Divine 
message  which  he  is  commissioned  to  speak.  We  must 
be  patient  with  him,  we  must  watch  for  him,  but  at  the 
last  he  will  tell  us  what  we  want  to  know,  not  the  less 
because  his  unity  of  purpose  has  been  veiled  in  such 
immense  diversity  of  action. 

In  all  these  various  forms  of  approach  there  is  no 
need  for  sacrificing  our  convictions  that  one  is  superior 
to  the  other.  We  may  believe  that  Athanasius  was 
more  sound  than  Ulfilas ;  that  the  Protestant  is  better 
than  the  Jesuit;  that  the  Episcopate  in  the  long  run 
has  been  a  more  useful  agency  than  the  monastic 
orders ;  that  the  comprehensive  system  of  the  National 
Church  is  more  efficient  than  the  more  limited  systems 
of  individuals  or  sects ;  that  Mary,  who  sat  at  Jesus' 
feet,  chose  a  better  part  than  Martha,  who  was  cum- 
bered with  much  serving.  All  this  may  well  be ;  but 
what  we  wish  to  show  is,  that  there  has  been,  that  there 
is,  that  there  will  be  to  the  end  of  time,  room  for  the 
weaker  as  well  as  for  the  stronger,  for  the  lower  as  well 
as  for  the  higher,  for  the  eagle  as  well  as  for  the  ox,  for 
the  man  as  well  as  for  the  lion,  in  the  vast  and  complex 
work  of  the  regeneration  of  the  world. 

(5.)  And  now  may  I,  as  on  former  occasions,  ask 
your  attention  to  the  mode  in  which,  year  after  year,  I 
have  endeavored  to  make  St.  Andrew's  Day  in  some 
measure  serve  to  vindicate  this  principle  ? 

On  the  first  occasion  you  were  invited  to  hear  the 
words  of  a  world-renowned  scholar  of  another  country  ; 
on  the  second  occasion  you  heard  the  discourse  of  the 
most  eloquent  orator  of  the  Northern  kingdom  ;  on  the 
third  you  listened  to  the  homely  address  of  the  patri- 
arch of  British  missionaries ;  on  the  fourth  to  the  close 
reasoning  of  a  minister  of  the  Church  of  Ireland,  parted 


354 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


from  ours  by  a  recent  convulsion,  yet  not  without  affini- 
ties derived  by  long  connection.  I  now  invite  you  to 
attend  the  teaching  of  one  who,  belonging  to  one  of 
those  great  organizations  which  I  have  already  de- 
scribed as  growing  up  outside  the  Established  Church 
of  this  country,  has  proved'  himself,  by  a  long  pastoral 
life  and  by  studies  which  traverse  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tracted portions  of  our  ecclesiastical  divisions,  capable 
of  understanding  both  the  excellencies  of  his  own  com- 
munion, and  also  the  excellencies  which  belong  to  the 
larger  system  of  the  Church  of  England.  Others  before 
our  time  have  written  histories  of  the  Puritans,  in  which 
we  hear  of  nothing  but  the  glories  of  the  Puritans ; 
others  have  written  histories  of  the  Church  of  England, 
in  which  we  hear  of  nothing  but  the  glories  of  the 
Church  of  England.  He  who  will  address  you  this 
evening  is  the  first  who  has  written  of  both  with  equal 
candor,  and  courtesy,  and  gracious  appreciation.  He 
will  speak  to  yon  in  the  name  of  those  illustrious  dead, 
whose  characters  he  has  so  well  portrayed ;  of  Chilling- 
worth,  Jeremy  Taylor,  and  Cudworth,  on  the  one  side, 
of  Baxter,  Howe,  and  Owen  on  the  other  side,  whose 
voices  were  once  heard  within  these  walls,  and  of  which 
the  echo,  we  trust,  will  be  prolonged  this  evening.  He 
will,  in  the  same  kindly  and  truthful  spirit,  endeavor 
to  set  before  you,  as  in  a  fourfold  vision,  some  of  the 
diversities  of  human  character  and  Christian  culture 
by  which,  in  various  fields  of  missionary  labor,  the 
kingdom  of  God  has,  in  these  our  latter  days,  been 
advanced. 

And  if,  perchance,  the  record  of  what  he  has  said 
under  this  venerable  roof  shall  reach  those  distant 
regions  for  which  we  this  day  pray,  it  will  be  to  them, 
I  trust,  not  a  stumbling-block  or  cause  of  offence,  but 
rather  a  proof  and  example  of  the  Divinity  and  Univer- 


DIVERSITY  IN  UNITY. 


355 


sality  of  the  Faith  which  we  profess  —  an  exemplifica- 
tion of  those  beautiful  lines  which .  he  has  himself 
quoted  with  fervent  admiration  from  a  Christian 1 
philosopher  of  the  seventeenth  century : 

But  true  Religion  sprung  from  God  above, 

Is  like  her  fountain  —  full  of  charity ; 
Embracing  all  things  with  a  tender  love, 

Full  of  good-will  and  meek  expectancy ; 
Full  of  true  justice  and  sure  verity, 

In  voice  and  heart ;  free,  large,  even  infinite ; 
Not  wedged  in  strait  particularity, 

But  grasping  all  in  her  vast  active  spright  — 
Bright  Lamp  of  God!  that  men  would  joy  in  thy  pure  light  I 


To  this  Divine  Light  may  God  in  His  mercy  lead  us 
all! 

i  Henry  More. 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  MISSION  SERVICES 
ON  ST.  ANDREW'S  DAY,  1879. 


St.  Andrew's  Day,  1879,  prior  to  the  Lecture  by  the  Rev.  Principal  Tul- 
loch,  of  St.  Andrew's  University,  Scotland,  delivered  in  the  Abbey 
on  the  same  day. 

The  field  is  the  world.  —  Matthew  xiii.  38. 

In  the  grounds  of  a  secluded  college  amidst  the  hills 
of  North  America,  is  a  pillar  which  marks  the  spot 
where  four  young  Presbyterian  students  bound  them- 
selves by  a  solemn  vow  to  found  missions  for  the  propa- 
gation of  the  Gospel  in  distant  countries.  It  was  the 
first  awakening  of  that  missionary  spirit  amongst  the 
Americans  which  has  issued  in  such  extended  enter- 
prises, and  which  only  this  year  drew  from  the  lips  of 
the  ruling  statesmen  of  this  country  unwonted  expres- 
sions of  eulogy.    On  that  pillar  are  written  the  words  — 

"THE  FIELD  IS  THE  WORLD." 

I  have  said  that  this  monument  commemorates  the 
first  revival  in  the  New  World  of  missionary  zeal  to 
the  distant  regions  of  the  earth ;  but  it  followed  upon 
and  was  part  of  the  like  zeal  which  arose  for  the  first 
time  in  all  Protestant  Churches  at  the  close  of  the  last 
century  and  the  beginning  of  this. 

The  ancient  mediaeval  Church,  at  the  time  of  the  set- 
tlement of  the  barbarian  tribes,  had  no  doubt  con- 
ceived the  noble  ambition  of  extending  the  frontiers  of 
Christianity  beyond  the  empire  which  it  had  already 
converted ;  and  the  same  tradition  was  continued  in 

356 


CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  ANDREW'S  DAT.  357 

the  later  Roman  Church  in  the  splendid  adventures  on 
which  the  Society  of  the  Jesuits  embarked  in  China,  in 
India,  in  Canada,  and  in  South  America.  But  these 
missions  have  on  the  whole  left  but  feeble  traces,  and 
the  contributions  of  the  whole  Roman  Church  at  this 
moment  to  the  missionary  cause  do  not  amount  to  one- 
third  of  what  is  contributed  by  the  Protestant  commun- 
ions of  Great  Britain  alone. 

It  was  in  those  Protestant  communions,  after  a  long 
apathy,  for  which  various  causes  may  be  assigned,  that 
the  ancient  fire  of  missionary  ardor  was  rekindled 
towards  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  Church  of  England  and  the  English  Noncon- 
formists then  began  to  feel  that  they  had  a  duty  to  the 
heathens  within  or  without  our  dominions,  such  as 
before  they  had  only  acknowledged  towards  our  own 
race,  or  possibly  the  races  immediately  dependent  upon 
us.  In  the  Church  of  Scotland  the  question  was  form- 
ally discussed  in  its  General  Assembly,  and  was  all  but 
extinguished  by  the  philosophic  arguments  of  one  of 
the  distinguished  ecclesiastical  leaders  of  that  time,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  sudden  and  vehement  appeal,  which 
I  have  once  before  quoted  from  this  place,  made  by  a 
zealous  minister  to  the  Holy  Bible,  as  it  lay  on  the  table 
before  the  seat  of  the  Moderator. 

The  principle  on  which  that  appeal  and  all  like 
appeals  are  founded,  is  contained  in  the  sacred  words 
which  I  have  chosen  for  my  text,  "  The  field  is  the 
world."  There  are  no  limits  to  the  advance  of  truth 
and  goodness,  and  therefore  no  limits  to  the  advance  of 
Christianity,  save  those  which  are  interposed  by  the 
extremities  of  space  that  bound  the  habitable  globe. 

Whatever  may  be  the  failings  in  the  methods  of 
missionary  enterprise,  however  much  they  need  to  be 
transformed  from  age  to  age,  yet  that  enterprise  rests 


358    CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  ANDREWS  DAT. 

in  all  its  farms  on  these  two  fundamental  truths,  That 
all,  or  almost  all,  branches  of  the  human  race  are  capa- 
ble of  moral  improvement ;  and  That  the  Christian 
religion  is  sufficiently  wide  to  comprehend,  and  take  its 
part  in,  every  form  of  moral  improvement  of  which  the 
human  race  is  capable. 

Such  are  the  grounds  on  which,  from  time  to  time,  I 
have  advocated,  on  the  successive  anniversaries  of  this 
solemnity,  the  cause  which  the  Primate  of  All  England 
has  commended  to  our  attention  at  this  season  of  the 
year.  This  is  the  last  occasion  on  which  I  shall  have 
an  opportunity  of  bringing  the  subject  forward  on  St. 
Andrew's  Day.  For  various  reasons  it  has  seemed  good 
to  transfer  the  day  of  intercession  for  missions  from  the 
festival  of  St.  Andrew  to  another  time  of  the  year  —  a 
transference  which  will  probably  change,  at  least  in 
this  place,  the  character  of  .the  celebration.  I  have, 
therefore,  thought  that  it  might  be  suitable  briefly  to 
sum  up  the  methods  by  which  it  has  been  endeavored 
to  carry  out  the  designs  of  our  Church  in  these  oppor- 
tunities. 

It  appeared  to  me  that  the  principle  that  "  the  field 
is  the  world "  required  a  yet  further  exemplification 
than  could  be  given  to  it  by  the  ordinary  appeals  of 
Churchmen  from  the  pulpit.  Accordingly  it  was  deter- 
mined, after  ascertaining  that  such  procedure  was  in 
entire  accordance  with  the  laws  of  this  Church  and 
realm,  to  invite  others  than  those  of  our  own  ministry 
or  communion  to  take  their  part  in  showing  that  they, 
too,  joined,  on  various  grounds,  in  this  common  work 
of  ours,  and  that,  at  least  in  this  place,  the  heathen 
world  should  not  be  scandalized  by  the  echoes  of  a  dis- 
united Christendom. 

The  first  who  undertook  this  office  was  a  German 
scholar  of  world-wide  renown,1  who,  beyond  any  other 

1  Professor  Max  Miiller. 


CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  ANDREW'S  DAY.  359 

living  man,  has  deeply  studied  the  various  religions  and 
languages  of  mankind,  and  was  sure  to  speak  of  them 
with  that  union  of  reverence  and  truthfulness  which  in 
itself  is  a  model  to  all  teachers  of  the  heathen  every- 
where. In  this  spirit  he  spoke  on  the  missionary  aspect 
of  the  various  religions  of  the  world ;  and  when,  at  a 
later  date  in  this  very  year,  he  further  developed  the 
same  truths  from  a  somewhat  different  point  of  view  in 
the  ancient  Chapter  House  adjoining  this  Abbey,  the 
permission  to  him  so  to  lecture  within  those  venerable 
walls  was  granted  at  my  special  request,  and  with  my 
full  sympathy  and  responsibility,  because  I  felt  that  he 
was  still  carrying  out  the  same  principles,  namely,  that 
through  the  whole  field  of  the  world,  wherever  we  can 
find  one  sacred  spot  in  the  soil  of  the  human  heart, 
there  the  seed  of  religion,  which  is  the  Word  of  God, 
may  be  sown,  and  may  yield  fruit,  some  thirty-fold, 
some  sixty-fold,  some  a  hundred-fold. 

The  next  who  was  invited  to  take  this  duty  was  one 
who,  occupying  one  of  the  highest  positions  of  education 
in  a  sister  Church,1  was  known  as  combining,  in  no  ordi- 
nary degree,  the  eloquence  of  the  Christian  preacher, 
with  the  depth  of  the  Christian  philosopher.  He  also, 
in  tones  which  I  would  we  could  oftener  hear  within 
these  walls,  dwelt  in  the  most  touching,  and  at  the 
same  time  most  convincing,  strain,  on  the  universal 
character  of  the  Christian  religion. 

The  third  was  far  different  from  either  of  the  two 
who  had  preceded  him.  He  was  a  man  great,  not  in 
speech,  but  in  action ;  venerable,  not  from  office,  but 
from  years ;  the  patriarch  of  British  missionaries,2  the 
near  kinsman  of  the  famous  explorer  who  lay  beneath 

1  The  Very  Rev.  John  Caird,  D.D.,  Principal  of  the  University  of 
Glasgow. 

2  The  Rev.  Dr.  Moffat,  father-in-law  of  Dr.  Livingstone. 


360    CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  ANDREW'S  DAT. 


his  feet,  and  partaker  with  him  in  the  labor  of  evangel- 
izing the  tribes  of  Africa.  He,  though  born  and  bred 
in  another  communion  and  ministry  than  ours,  and 
showing  in  his  simple  style  how  little  he  had  partaken 
of  the  larger  knowledge  or  culture  of  the  seats  of  learn- 
ing, yet  bore  not  the  less  a  powerful  testimony  to  the 
height  and  breadth  of  the  missionary  sphere. 

For  the  fourth  teacher  in  this  succession  there  would 
have  been,  but  for  the  imperative  duties  required  by 
the  like  celebration  in  his  own  communion  beyond  the 
border,1  one  whom  the  late  Chief  Ruler  of  India  had 
designated  as,  amongst  all  living  names,  the  one  that 
had  carried  most  weight  amongst  the  Hindoo  and  Mo- 
hammedan nations  of  our  vast  empire,  as  a  faithful 
pastor  and  a  wise  and  considerate  teacher.  Though  he 
belonged  in  his  later  years  to  a  communion  which  had 
broken  off  from  its  parent  stock,  yet  his  generous  spirit 
eagerly  welcomed  the  call  made  to  him,  and,  but  for  the 
accidental  circumstance  to  which  I  have  referred,  would 
gladly  have  responded  to  it. 

His  place  was  filled  by  a  representative  preacher  from 
the  Church  of  Ireland  2  —  divided  from  our  own  through 
causes  over  which  it  had  no  control,  divided  in  its  con- 
stitution, in  its  forms  of  worship,  and  in  its  national 
character ;  but  not  therefore  the  less  entitled  to  take 
its  share  with  the  scholars  and  the  preachers  of  other 
countries  and  other  Churches  in  a  work  that  seemed 
especially  to  befit  the  Communion  that  had  produced 
such  mighty  missionaries  as  the  Evangelizers  in  early 
times  of  Scotland,  of  Switzerland,  and  of  Western  Ger- 
many. 

The  fifth  was  a  distinguished  scholar  and  pastor  of 
our  own  English  Nonconformists,3  who,  by  his  gracious 

1  Tho  Rev.  Dr.  Duff.  2  Archdeacon  Reichel. 

8  The  Rev.  Dr.  Stoughton. 


CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  ANDREW'S  DAY.  361 

and  loving  spirit,  has  perhaps  done  as  much  as  any  one 
in  our  distracted  time  could  effect  to  reconcile  the  dif- 
ferences which  divide  our  Churches.  He,  with  his  large 
historical  knowledge  and  capacious  sympathies,  was  able 
to  illustrate  this  spirit  and  to  confirm  our  work  by  show- 
ing the  unity  amidst  diversity  of  the  various  types  of 
Christian  biography  in  the  field  of  missionary  labor. 

And  now  on  this,  the  last  St.  Andrew's  Day  ou 
which  the  cause  of  missions  will  be  pleaded  in  this 
place,  it  has  seemed  a  not  unsuitable  occasion  to  invite 
the  chief  ecclesiastical  head  of  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
who  is  also  the  chief  theological  professor  in  that  ancient 
university  which  bears  the  name  of  the  Apostle  from 
whom  this  day  is  called,  to  bear  his  witness  in  proclaim- 
ing that  the  world,  and  every  part  of  the  world,  is  the 
field  on  which  Christianity  must  thrive  and  triumph. 
He  has  taught  us,  as  no  one  else  has  yet  taught  us,  the 
quiet  strength  and  the  temperate  light  which  lay  within 
our  own  Church  of  England,  in  the  distinguished  suc- 
cession of  philosophic  and  apostolic  divines  who  glori- 
fied the  seventeenth  century  in  this  country.  He  has 
taught  his  own  Church  the  greatness  of  its  position  as 
the  Church,  not  of  a  sect,  but  of  a  nation  —  as  the 
Church  which  of  all  ecclesiastical  institutions  in  the 
northern  kingdom  is  most  emphatically  the  refuge  of 
learning,  of  culture,  and  of  freedom.  And  if  this  occa- 
sion should  assist  in  binding  more  closely  together  the 
two  nations  whose  union  has  been  cemented  after  so 
many  years  of  bloodshed  and  dissension,  not  only  by 
law,  but  by  the  dearest  and  nearest  affections ;  if  it 
should  tend  to  a  closer  sympathy  between  two  sister 
Churches,  which  have  the  same  purpose  of  civilizing 
and  enlightening  the  national  elements  with  which 
they  are  connected,  it  will  be  carrying  out  the  principle 
on  which  the  Church  and  Realm  of  England  have  always 


362    CLOSE  OF  MISSION  SERVICES,  ST.  AISDREW'S  DAT. 

recognized  the  Church  of  Scotland,  the  principle  that 
all  who  call  themselves  Christians  shall  pursue  the 
unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace  and  in  right- 
eousness of  life.  Let  us  trust  that  on  this  the  last  of 
our  missionary  services  on  St.  Andrew's  Day,  we  shall 
be  taught  to  carry  away  the  vital  principle  of  the  Gos- 
pel from  which  all  missions  spring ;  let  us  trust  that 
some  reason  may  be  given  for  the  hope  that,  whoever 
else  goes  astray  to  the  right  hand  or  to  the  left,  we  may 
truly  find  in  the  life  of  our  Divine  Master  those  words 
of  eternal  life,  of  which  the  most  learned  historian  of 
Christianity  has  said  in  the  most  solemn  passage  of  his 
work,  that  "  these,  and  these  alone,  are  the  primal,  in- 
defeasible truths  of  Christianity  which  shall  not  pass 
away "  —  and  which,  in  proportion  as  we  reach  to  a 
more  practical  use  of  those  undying  truths,  shall  trans- 
form and  purify  the  whole  field  of  the  world. 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


February,  1871 ,  before  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London. 

How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary,  that  was  full  of  people!  how  is  she 
become  as  a  widow!  she  that  was  great  among  the  nations,  and  prin- 
cess among  the  provinces. 

Arise,  cry  out  in  the  night :  in  the  beginning  of  the  watches  pour  out 
thine  heart  like  water  before  the  face  of  the  Lord:  lift  up  thy  hands 
towards  Him  for  the  life  of  thy  young  children,  that  faint  for  hunger 
in  the  top  of  every  street. 

Remember,  0  Lord,  what  is  come  upon  us :  consider,  and  behold 
our  reproach.  —  Lamentations  i.  1 ;  ii.  19 ;  t.  1. 

The  full  instruction  of  this  sacred  book,  the  Lamen- 
tations of  the  Prophet  Jeremiah,  can  be  understood  only 
by  considering  the  previous  position  of  the  Prophet 
himself.  We  dwelt  last  Sunday  on  the  joyous,  hope- 
ful, confident  tone  of  the  Prophet  Isaiah.  The  language 
of  the  prophecies  of  Jeremiah  is  just  the  reverse.  He 
lived  at  a  time  when  his  country  was  reaping  the  bitter 
fruits  of  former  corruption  and  sin.  The  throne  of 
Judah  had  long  been  occupied  by  Princes  unworthy  of 
that  great  position.  The  priests  and  prophets  fed  the 
people  with  falsehoods,  and  the  people  loved  to  have 
it  so.  Jerusalem  had  become  the  seat  of  selfish  luxury 
and  of  extravagant  superstition.  The  Temple  had 
become  a  den  of  robbers.  Jeremiah  almost  alone  of 
his  countrymen  saw  things  as  they  really  were ;  he  was 
the  messenger  of  unwelcome  truth,  without  illusion 
and  without  deception ;  for  forty  years,  day  by  day, 
he  delivered  his  testimony  against  king  and  priests  and 

363 


364 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PAEIS. 


prophets,  like  a  pillar  of  iron,  like  a  wall  of  brass, 
solitary,  fearless,  undismayed.1  And  when  the  judg- 
ments closed  around  himself  and  his  people,  he  alone 
had  the  courage  to  counsel  submission  to  a  fate  which 
seemed  inevitable.  Xot  from  indifference  to  his  coun- 
try, but  from  a  deeper  insight  into  its  higher  destiny, 
he  advised  the  concessions  which  others  despised.  Un- 
like the  ordinary  leaders  of  political  or  religious  parties, 
he  had  the  wisdom  to  surrender  a  part  for  the  sake  of 
the  whole,  to  concede  the  loss  of  the  short  to-day  for 
the  sake  of  gaining  the  long  to-morrow. 

At  last,  however,  the  end  came ;  at  last  the  queenly 
city  fell ;  at  last  the  cup  of  misery  was  drunk  to  the 
dregs.  Then  the  whole  tone  of  the  Prophet  changes. 
His  exhortations,  his  invectives,  his  counsels  of  modera- 
tion and  of  prudence  are  suspended.  One  only  feeling 
takes  possession  of  his  mind.  "  After  the  captivity  of 
Judah.  and  the  desolation  of  Jerusalem,"  so  we  are 
told  in  one  2  of  the  oldest  of  Jewish  traditions,  "  Jere- 
miah sate  down  and  wept,  and  lamented  his  lamentation 
over  Jerusalem."  A  rocky  cave  outside  the  walls  is 
still  shown  as  that  in  which  the  Prophet  buried  himself 
in  his  passionate  grief.  His  awestruck  figure,  his  atti- 
tude of  hopeless  sorrow,  remain  forever  ensbrined  in 
the  genius  of  Michael  Angelo.  His  words  themselves 
are  preserved  to  us  in  the  Book  of  the  Lamentations. 
There  we  see  how  his  agony  was  allowed  free  course. 
Here  and  there  he  still  dwells  for  a  moment  on  the 
sins  and  follies  of  his  people ;  here  and  there  for  a 
moment  he  cries  for  vengeance  on  their  enemies.  But 
for  the  most  part  these  thoughts  are  gone.  What 
fills  his  mind  is  the  ruin  of  the  royal  city,  the  black 
and  ghastly  forms  of  the  once  polished  and  luxurious 

1  Jer.  L  17, 18;  iii.  iv.;  v.  30:  vii.  LL 

a  The  Preface  to  Lamentations,  in  the  Septuagint  version. 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


365 


nobles  wasted  into  skeletons,  the  high-born  women  in 
their  crimson  robes  vainly  striving  to  eke  out  from  the 
foul  heaps  of  filth  the  failing  supply  of  food ;  above  all 
the  little  children,  with  their  parched  tongues,  fainting 
in  the  streets,  asking  for  bread,  crying  to  their  mothers 
for  corn  and  wine.1 

The  Book,  from  beginning  to  end,  is  a  heart-rending 
picture  of  calamities  which  have  only  to  be  compared 
with  the  actual  experience  of  like  events  in  succeeding 
ages,  to  make  us  feel  the  literal  truth  of  every  part. 
It  is  the  one  Book  which  the  Bible  contains  filled 
from  first  to  last  with  the  almost  unalloyed  expression 
of  unrestrained  anguish,  and  utter,  inconsolable  deso- 
lation. 

From  this  Book  of  Lamentations,  thus  placed  among 
the  sacred  Scriptures,  what  do  we  learn  ? 

First,  there  is  the  general  principle  which  it  involves, 
old  indeed  as  the  heart  of  man,  but  sometimes  forgot- 
ten, and  always  needing  to  be  re-enforced,  that  over 
and  above,  and  beyond,  and  beside,  and  across  all  other 
calls  and  claims  on  our  thoughts,  is  the  cry  of  suffering 
humanity.  However  much  Jeremiah  had  to  say  and 
to  think  of  the  sins  of  his  people,  and  the  superstitions 
of  their  prophets,  or  of  the  great  prospects  of  the 
future  kingdom  of  God ;  however  much  he  had  dwelt 
on  these  things  in  former  times,  yet  now,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  this  overwhelming  sorrow,  they  were  put  aside, 
they  were  almost,  if  not  altogether,  forgotten.  He  who 
had  been  regarded  by  his  countrymen  as  a  traitor,  was 
once  more  drawn  into  the  closest  sympathy  with  them. 
He  who  had  been  excommunicated  by  the  priests  and 
prophets  of  his  Church  was  again  one  with  them 
through  the  constraining  bonds  of  their  common  woe. 
The  Book  of  Lamentations  is  the  standing  testimony 
i  Lam.  i.  1;  ii.  9,  11,  12,  19;  iv.  4,  5,  7,  8. 


366 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


to  the  absorbing,  predominant  sacredness  of  human 
suffering.  "  Death  quits  all  scores  "  —  misery  makes 
companions  of  the  most  widely  estranged.  The  soul, 
the  intellect,  the  spirit,  are  indeed  higher  than  the 
body.  But  there  are  times  when  physical  distress  has 
the  first  and  deepest  claim  —  when  the  homely  maxim 
of  St.  James  takes  precedence  of  all  philosophy  and  all 
theology.  "  If  thy  brother  or  thy  sister  be  naked,  or 
in  lack  of  daily  food,  and  one  of  you  saith  unto  them, 
Go  in  peace,  be  ye  warmed,  and  filled, — and  yet  ye 
give  them  not  the  things  needful  to  the  body,  what 
doth  it  profit?"  1  On  such  occasions,  the  mere  supply 
of  outward  wants,  the  simplest  attention  to  the  call  of 
humanity,  becomes  a  solemn,  religious  obligation,  the 
first,  second,  and  third  duty  of  every  Christian.  It 
breaks  down  partitions,  it  opens  all  hearts,  it  finds  its 
way  through  all  Churches,  it  unites  all  nations.  One 
touch  of  sorrow  and  pain,  like  one  touch  of  nature, 
makes  the  whole  world  kin. 

And  if  this  be  the  general  lesson  of  the  Book  of 
Lamentations,  who  can  doubt  its  special  application  to 
the  subject  which  to-day  fills  our  thoughts?  Here 
again,  as  in  the  time  of  the  Prophet,  such  a  spectacle 
is  presented  to  us  as  at  once  arrests  all  the  various  con- 
flicting emotions  and  opinions  which  the  events  of  the 
last  six  months  have  inevitably  produced  amongst  us. 
Whatever  we  may  any  of  us  have  felt  on  the  origin  of 
this  dreadful  war,  however  much  we  may  have  con- 
demned its  authors,  however  bitterly  we  may  have 
mourned  over  the  means,  on  one  side  or  the  other,  by 
which  it  has  been  prolonged  and  carried  on  —  all  these 
thoughts  now  sink  to  the  second  place :  we  think,  we 
dream  only  or  chiefly  of  the  overwhelming  misery  of 
the  two  millions  of  human  beings,  exposed  to  want, 

*  James  ii.  16. 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


367 


to  cold,  to  discomfort  of  every  kind,  increasing  in 
intensity  till  it  reaches  famine,  starvation,  and  death. 
My  brethren,  such  a  spectacle  so  produced  has  not 
been  within  the  experience  of  this  generation,  in  some 
respects  not  within  the  experience  of  any  generation  of 
modern  history.  There  have  been  great  national  visita- 
tions, like  the  Irish  Famine  of  1846,  like  the  Cotton 
Famine  of  our  Northern  districts  in  1862 ;  there  have 
been  also  sieges  both  in  ancient  and  modern  times  in 
which  greater  miseries  have  been  endured.  But  a 
siege  on  so  Vast  a  scale  has  never  been  seen  before  in 
the  world's  annals  —  a  distress  at  once  so  widely  spread 
and  so  suddenly  revealed  has  never  been,  before  this, 
disclosed  to  mortal  eyes.  In  the  presence  of  such  a 
misfortune,  it  is,  I  will  not  say  the  chief  duty,  it  is  the 
chief  consolation  of  the  bystanders,  to  do  what  in  them 
lies  to  lighten  it.  It  draws  us  out  of  ourselves.  It 
compels  us  to  feel  that  we  too  are  part  of  the  great 
human  family.  It  invites  us,  it  cries  to  us,  to  come  to 
the  rescue. 

There  are  two  special  calls  which  this  vast  disclosure 
of  misery  makes  upon  us.  One  is  of  a  more  remote 
but  of  a  more  permanent  kind  —  the  other,  more  imme- 
diate and  pressing.  Let  us  speak  of  the  more  remote 
reflection  first. 

It  is  now  nearly  thirty  years  ago  that  a  great  aca- 
demical audience  was  thrilled  by  the  moving  descrip- 
tion which  one  of  the  wisest  and  best  of  England's 
teachers 1  gave  of  the  siege  of  Genoa  during  the  last 
great  European  war.  It  was  told  with  the  view  of 
fixing  public  attention  upon  the  cruel  necessities  im- 
posed on  armies  and  on  nations  by  the  present  condi- 
tion of  the  laws  of  war ;  and  the  speaker  urged,  with 
an  impressive  earnestness,  which  none  who  heard  it  can 

1  Arnold's  Lectures  on  Modern  History,  pp.  1G8-72. 


368 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


ever  forget,  that  great  cities  should  no  longer  be  turned 
into  fortresses,  and  that,  whatever  have  been  the  hor- 
rors of  Avar  in  past  times,  they  might  for  the  future  be 
relieved  of  this  terrible  aggravation.  We  may  be 
thankful  that  in  this  country  the  calamities  winch  Paris 
has  been  called  upon  to  endure  can  never  be  witnessed ; 
for  in  England  no  large  city  can  be  converted  into  a 
besieged  camp,  no  vast  population  is  enclosed  within  a 
circle  of  forts  which  could  compel  us  to  suffer,  or  our 
enemies  to  inflict,  what  became  inevitable  in  France 
from  the  moment  that  its  capital  was  invested.  It  may 
be  that  in  the  conflict  of  fierce  passions,  even  when 
peace  is  concluded,  the  hope,  the  desire  to  avert  such 
miseries  for  the  future  may  wax  feeble,  and  that  no 
voice  of  Christian  minister  or  wise  philanthropist  will 
be  strong  enough  to  root  out  for  ever  this  special  cause 
of  human  suffering.  Yet  it  may  be  worth  while  to 
remind  ourselves  and  others  of  the  cause  of  its  exist- 
ence. It  is  something  even  in  the  way  of  consolation 
to  remember  that  this  particular  form  of  suffering 
ought  to  have  been  avoidable,  that  it  is  not  even  one  of 
the  necessary  consequences  of  invasion  or  defence,  but 
is  the  result  of  an  exceptional,  abnormal  state  of 
things;  brought  about  by  a  policy  which,  whatever 
incidental  occasions  it  may  have  furnished  for  the  dis- 
play of  noble  endurance,  yet  was  founded  on  expecta- 
tions and  calculations  confessedly  erroneous.  May  the 
widely  ramifying  miseries  which  have  sprung  from  this 
single  root  of  bitterness,  induce  those  whose  high  con- 
cern it  is  at  least  to  reconsider  the  whole  question 
involved ;  may  God  in  His  mercy  give  to  them  the 
mind  to  know,  and  the  will  to  act,  for  the  alleviation 
at  least  of  this  one  evil  in  the  times  that  are  yet  to 
come ! 

But,  as  I  said  before,  it  is  not  of  evils  or  remedies  in 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


369 


the  far  future,  or  even  in  the  nearer  future,  that  T  have 
chiefly  to  speak.  It  is  of  a  want,  pressing,  immediate, 
close  at  hand ;  it  is  the  want  not  of  a  month  hence,  but 
of  this  week;  not  of  to-morrow,  but  of  to-day.  Now 
is  the  time,  and  ours  is  the  privilege,  to  unite  with  the 
two  contending  nations  to  do  what  neither  of  them  can 
do  alone,  or  even  together,  for  the  deliverance  from 
sickness,  from  poverty,  from  famine,  of  the  crowds  of 
sufferers  who,  within  a  day's  journey  (or  what  used  to 
be  a  day's  journey)  from  our  doors,  are  pining  and  per- 
ishing for  lack  of  food. 

Let  us  think  for  a  moment  of  the  scene  of  these 
unnamed,  unnumbered  woes  —  Paris,  the  capital  of 
France.  Let  us  for  once  speak  of  that  great  city  not 
in  its  frivolous  but  in  its  nobler  aspects ;  not  as  the 
Babylon  which  made  the  nations  drunk  with  the  cup  of 
her  sorceries,  but  as  the  Athens  of  modern  refinement, 
the  clear  luminous  eye  of  Europe ;  not  as  the  Lucifer 
who  made  the  nations  tremble,  and  scattered  terror 
and  desolation  over  the  earth,  but  as  the  bright  star  of 
the  morning  which  has  heralded  the  dawn  of  many  a 
glorious  day  in  the  progress  of  humanity ;  not  as  the 
city  of  despotic  rule,  or  of  reigns  of  terror,  incredulity, 
and  fanaticism,  of  the  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew 
and  the  massacres  of  September,  but  as  the  city  of 
heroic  virtues  all  its  own,  of  saintly  and  illustrious 
names,  which  are  the  glory  of  all  lands,  whose  praise  is 
in  all  the  churches  —  St.  Louis  and  Gerson,  Coligny 
and  Duplessis-Mornay,  Descartes  and  Cuvier,  L'Hopital 
and  D'Aguesseau,  Bossuet  and  Fe"nelon,  Pascal  and 
Racine,  and  (coming  down  almost  to  our  own  day, 
though  still  speaking  only  of  the  dead)  Adolphe  Monod 
and  Athanase  Coquerel,  Lacordaire  and  Montalembert. 
Let  us  think  of  all  that,  in  these  and  many  more  of  its 
sons,  it  has  embraced  of  whatever  is  gracious  and  gen- 


370 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


erous,  benignant  and  chivalrous,  in  former  ages  and  in 
the  present ;  enlivening,  illuminating,  engaging,  attract- 
ing the  best  affections  round  the  noblest  of  human  pur- 
suits. Let  us  think  of  it  as  the  nurse  of  some  of  the 
tenderest  feelings  of  the  human  heart,  now  so  sorely 
wrung ;  of  children  towards  their  aged  parents,  of  sons 
towards  their  mothers ;  as  the  second  home,  may  we 
not  say,  to  many  an  English  and  to  many  an  American 
household,  bound  up  with  the  dear  memories  of  our 
own  past  years,  with  the  thought  of  happy  days  and 
delightful  converse,  of  friends  whose  faces  recall  the 
glad  recollections  of  times  which  now  seem  parted  from 
us  as  if  by  a  chasm  of  ages,  or  whom  we  thankfully 
remember  to  have  been  snatched  away  from  the  evil  to 
come.  Let  us  enfold  these  thoughts  in  the  familiar 
framework  and  form  of  that  beautiful  city ;  its  encir- 
cling hills,  its  abounding  river,  its  glorious  quays,  its 
brilliant  streets,  its  world-historic  squares,  its  spacious 
palaces,  its  venerable  churches,  its  magnificent  muse- 
ums, its  lengthened  avenues,  its  lovely  gardens  —  the 
glory  of  the  world's  greatness,  the  focus  of  the  gayety 
of  the  human  heart,  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth. 

These  are  the  scenes  where  death,  they  tell  us,  is 
now  busy,  these  are  the  homes  where  want  and  misery 
has  taken  the  place  of  splendor  and  plenty,  where,  as 
in  Jerusalem,  the  young  children  faint  for  hunger  in 
the  top  of  every  silent  street.  "  How  doth  the  city  sit 
solitary  that  was  full  of  people !  how  is  she  become  as 
a  widow !  she  that  was  great  among  the  nations,  and 
princess  among  the  provinces."  ki  How  is  the  gold 
become  dim,  and  the  most  fine  gold  changed  !  "  "  They 
that  did  feed  delicately  are  desolate  in  the  streets." 
"  They  that  be  slain  with  the  sword  are  better  than 
they  that  be  slain  with  hunger :  for  they  pine  away, 
stricken  through  for  want  of  the  fruits  of  the  field." 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


371 


"  The  elders  have  ceased  from  the  gate,  the  young  men 
from  their  music  ;  the  joy  of  their  heart  is  ceased  ;  the 
dance  is  turned  into  mourning.  For  this  their  heart  is 
faint ;  for  these  things  their  eyes  are  dim."  "  Remem- 
ber, O  Lord,  what  is  come  upon  them ;  consider,  and 
behold  their  reproach."  In  these  sacred  words  I  have 
described  the  misery  which  can  be  described  by  none 
other  so  well.  None  other  so  fitly  belong  to  a  catastro- 
phe so  awful. 

We  judge  not  the  vanquished.  We  judge  not  the 
victors.  We  would  remember  that  those  on  whom  the 
tower  in  Siloam  fell  were  not  sinners  above  the  rest  of 
mankind.  We  would  remember  that  the  successful 
nation  has  itself  greatly  suffered,  and  would,  had  the 
tide  of  war  not  been  driven  back  from  its  borders,  have 
suffered  yet  more  deeply.  Neither  do  we  dwell  on  the 
prospect  of  what  has  been  wrought  for  the  future  of 
France  and  Paris  by  this  fiery  baptism, — what  purifi- 
cation, what  regeneration,  in  ways  till  now  unheard  of, 
towards  ends  till  now  undreamed  of! 

These  are  not  the  thoughts  which  should  now  fill 
our  minds.  We  are  with  Jeremiah  on  the  rocky  mount, 
weeping  over  Jerusalem,  not  with  Jeremiah  denouncing, 
prophesying,  warning,  condemning,  judging  the  nations. 
We  are  called  simply  to  assist  in  a  great  calamity,  which, 
by  God's  good  providence,  we  are  specially  enabled  to 
remedy.  That  close  neighborhood  of  England  to  France 
which  has  in  former  ages  led  to  many  a  bitter  rivalry,  to 
many  a  cruel  war,  to  many  a  threat  of  invasion,  is  now 
turned  for  us  and  for  them  into  a  blessed  opportunity 
for  charity,  for  beneficence,  for  healing  many  a  worn- 
out  frame,  for  soothing  many  a  stricken  heart,  for  saving 
many  a  precious  life.  To  no  other  nation  in  Europe  has 
the  task  been  so  visibly  assigned  by  the  finger  of  God 
as  it  is  to  us.   To  none  other  has  such  an  occasion  been 


372 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


afforded  of  showing  that  Christian  charity  is  above  dif- 
ference of  race  and  creed,  above  divergent  judgments 
and  clashing  sympathies.  To  us,  with  our  abundant 
wealth,  with  our  untouched  stores,  with  our  ports  close 
at  hand,  to  us  it  has  been  permitted,  in  the  most  literal 
sense,  to  love  our  neighbor  —  our  great,  our  suffering 
neighbor  —  as  ourselves.  To  us  even  the  all-powerful 
conquerors,  in  this  dread  emergency,  appeal  to  aid  them 
in  their  truly  chivalrous  and  generous  mission  of  di- 
viding with  their  enemies  the  sustenance  which  they 
can  ill  spare.  To  us,  with  a  yet  more  urgent  entreaty, 
the  thousands  of  sufferers  themselves  cry  for  assistance  ; 
the  widow  and  the  orphan,  left  without  the  hand  which 
should  have  worked  for  their  support ;  the  sickly  and 
the  weakly,  to  whom  even  the  delicacies  of  life  are 
necessaries  ;  the  lower  ranks  of  the  middle  classes,  whose 
frugality  had  hitherto  enabled  them  to  struggle  against 
the  bitter  poverty  which  has  come  in  upon  them  like 
an  overwhelming  flood ;  the  little  babes,  whose  inno- 
cent joyousness  might  yet  have  cheered  many  a  deso- 
late home,  but  whose  tender  lives  fade  away  like  flowers 
amidst  the  chilling  cold,  and  biting  hunger,  and  wasting 
miseries  of  this  terrible  winter. 

I  venture  on  no  details,  for  none  are  known.  I  use  no 
elaborate  arguments,  for  none  are  needed.  It  is  enough 
that  a  great  neighboring  nation  is  perishing  within  sight 
of  our  shores.  It  is  enough  that  the  wisdom  and  the 
necessity  of  supplying  their  wants  is  recognized  by  all 
those  who  have  the  best  means  of  knowing.  It  is  enough 
that  this  vast  metropolis,  and  this  whole  nation,  through 
its  Government,  its  municipalities,  its  Churches,  and  its 
sects,  responds  to  the  call.  It  is  enough  that  London 
—  if  any  city  in  the  world,  the  sister  city  of  the  capital 
which  is  thus  afflicted  —  has  come  forward  to  head  this 
enterprise  of  mercy ;  and  that  in  this  historic  church, 


THE  DISTRESS  OF  PARIS. 


373 


where  lie  mingled  together  the  illustrious  dust  of  French- 
men and  of  Englishmen,  should  be  litly  made  this  first 
appeal.  Give  what  you  can  now,  for  the  time  is  short, 
and  the  labor  is  long,  and  the  need  is  urgent,  and  the 
work  is  great. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


July  4,  18G9  (the  anniversary  of  the  Declaration  of  American  Inde- 
pendence). 

/  say  unto  you,  That  whosoever  is  angry  with  his  brother  without 
a  cause  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment :  and  whosoever  shall  say 
to  his  brother,  Raca  !  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  council:  but  whosoever 
shall  say,  Thou  fool  J  shall  be  in  danger  of  hell  fire.  —  Matthew 
v.  22. 

The  Gospel  of  this  day  (the  sixth  Sunday  after 
Trinity)  requires  first  to  be  explained,  and  then  to  be 
applied  to  individuals,  to  Churches,  and  to  nations. 

I.  It  contains  certain  allusions  to  the  Jewish  lan- 
guage and  customs  which  need  to  be  brought  out  in 
order  to  be  understood.  The  phrases  "  Raca,"  "  coun- 
cil," "  judgment  "  —  the  words  which  are  translated 
"Thou  fool,"  and  "hell  fire  "  —  all  imply  some  thoughts 
and  usages  winch  were  familiar  at  that  time,  but  which 
we  have  lost. 

Our  Lord  is  speaking  of  the  sin  of  thoughts  and 
words,  as  separate  from  acts,  of  anger.  There  is  first 
the  causeless  anger.  No  doubt  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  righteous  indignation,  just  anger :  our  Lord  Him- 
self showed  it ;  no  character  is  perfect  without  it.  But 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  anger  merely  for  anger's  sake ; 
readiness  to  take  affront;  rudeness,  because  we  do  not 
take  the  trouble  to  be  civil ;  irritation,  because  we  allow 
every  thing  to  irritate  us.  We  sometimes  think  it  no 
matter  whether  we  quarrel  or  not.  It  does  matter  a 
great  deal.    Never  quarrel,  if  you  can  possibly  help  it. 

374 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH.  375 


This  is  the  first  thing  which  our  Saviour  urges.  It  is 
not  enough  to  keep  from  striking  a  man  dead ;  we  must 
keep  ourselves  from  those  quarrels  which  lead  to  mur- 
der. "  Whosoever  shall  be  angry  with  his  brother  with- 
out a  cause  shall  be  in  danger  of  the  judgment "  —  that 
is,  although  it  may  not  be  a  very  great  fault,  yet  it  is  a 
fault,  a  fault  fully  as  worthy  of  condemnation  as  many 
of  those  acts  which  are  condemned  by  the  judgment  of 
the  courts  of  justice  when  they  sentence  a  man  to  a 
month's  imprisonment  or  to  a  pecuniary  fine  for  some 
assault  or  theft. 

But  besides  the  feeling  of  anger,  there  is  the  still  fur- 
ther mischief  of  angry  words  ;  and  of  these  our  Lord 
takes  two  instances.  One  is  "Raca."  That  is  a  Syriac 
word,  meaning  "empty,"  " shallow,"  "thoughtless,"  such 
an  expression  of  contempt  as  is  often  used  in  common 
conversation,  and  which  leaves  a  rankling  sore  behind, 
because  it  is  contemptuous.  "  Whoever  uses  such  a 
word,"  he  says,  "ought  to  feel  that  he  deserves  such 
a  seveie  condemnation  as  would  be  pronounced  by 
the  highest  court  of  appeal  in  the  whole  country  — 
by  the  great  council  or  Sanhedrim  itself."  It  is  another 
step  in  the  scale  of  offences ;  and  though  it  is  quite 
true  that  no  council,  civil  or  ecclesiastical,  can  take 
cognizance  of  mere  expressions,  though  the  law  of  Eng- 
land has  long  since  ceased  to  regard  words  as  treason- 
able, yet,  in  the  judgment  of  God,  and  in  the  court  of 
conscience,  these  light  and  contemptuous  phrases  hate 
a  significance  which  does  injury  both  to  those  who  utter 
them,  and  to  those  who  hear  them.1 

There  is  yet  another  form  of  angry  words  that  is  still 
more  mischievous.  There  are  some  words  which  not 
merely  express  general  contempt,  but  gather  into  them- 

1  This  is  well  put  in  Professor  Maurice's  Kingdom  of  Christ,  vol.  ii. 
p.  322. 


376 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


selves  an  intensit}-  of  virulence,  from  being  associated 
with  political  or  religious  passions,  tmd  thus  convey 
a  bitterness  of  meaning  far  beyond  their  own.  Such  a 
word  was  that  wliich  in  our  English  version  is  trans- 
lated "  Thou  fool."  It  may  be  interesting  to  those  who 
can  follow  the  original  to  know  that  this  is  not,  as  is 
often  supposed,  a  Greek  word,  nor  does  it  perhaps  mean 
"  fool."  It  is  a  Hebrew  or  S}-riac  word,  moreh,  like  the 
other  word  raea ;  and  though  it  probably  gains  an 
additional  strength  of  meaning  from  its  likeness  to  the 
Greek  word  more  ("fool"),  its  own  proper  signification 
is  "rebel"  or  "heretic,"  one  who  wilfully  breaks  the 
laws  of  his  Church  or  country  —  one  who  would  pre- 
sume to  teach  his  own  teachers.  It  is  the  same  word 
which  Moses  (Num.  xx.  10)  uses  to  the  Israelites : 
"  How  now,  ye  '  rebels  '  t " 1  It  was,  according  to  the 
Jewish  tradition,  for  using  this  offensive  word  to  God's 
people  that  he  was  forbidden  to  enter  the  promised 
land.  And,  accordingly,  it  is  this  which  our  Lord  visits 
with  His  severest  condemnation.  He  says  that  though 
it  is  beyond  the  reach  of  any  earthly  tribunal,  though 
it  is  a  word  used  by  religious  men  and  grave  authori- 
ties in  their  own  defence,  yet  it  deserves  as  much  shame 
and  reproach  as  belongs  to  those  whose  carcases  were 

1  This  meaning  of  the  word,  and  the  mistake  of  the  usual  version  of 
the  New  Testament,  was  first  brought  before  me  in  a  tract  by  Professor 
F.  W.  Newman.  It  is  also  noticed  by  Dean  Alford,  as  one  out  of  two 
or  three  interpretations.  This  is  confirmed  by  Mr.  Deutsch,  who  adds 
this  important  comment :  — "  '  The  word  more,'  says  the  Midrash,  '  has 
many  meanings.  It  means  "  rebel ;  "  it  means  "  fool,"  for  thus  they  call 
a  fool  in  the  sea  towns  (i.e.  the  Greek  colonies).  It  means  such  as 
would  presume  to  teach  their  own  teachers.  It  means  throwers  of  poi- 
soned arrows,  calumny,  etc'  " 

I  am  further  indebted  to  the  learning  of  Mr.  Deutsch  for  a  parallel 
in  the  Talmud  to  the  whole  passage  :  — "  He  who  calls  his  neighbor  a 
slave  shall  be  anathematized  ;  he  who  calls  him  a  bastard  shall  receive 
forty  stripes  ;  he  who  calls  him  rasha  (wicked)  shall  answer  for  it  to  the 
offended  one  in  his  own  person  (i.e.  the  law  has  nothing  to  do  with  an 
intangible  offence)." 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH.  377 


thrown  out  into  the  valley  of  Hinnom  —  Ge-henna,  as  it 
was  called  —  where  they  were  burned  up  in  the  fires 
which  consumed  all  the  offal  of  the  city.  (This  is  the 
meaning  of  the  words  which  we  translate  in  this  place 
"hell  fire."  It  is  the  fire,  the  funeral  pile,  the  burning 
furnaces  of  that  dark  valley,  the  Smithfield,  the  slaugh- 
ter-house, the  draught-house  of  Jerusalem.)  It  is  like 
that  other  saying :  "  Salt  is  good ;  but  if  the  salt  has 
lost  its  savor,  it  is  good  for  nothing  but  to  be  trodden 
under  foot  of  man."  All  such  words  may  have  had  a 
grave  religious  use  once,  but  when  used  for  mere  po- 
lemical or  revengeful  purposes,  they  are  as  irreligious 
and  as  profane  as  the  common  cursing  and  swearing 
which  belongs  not  to  the  city  of  Zion,  but  to  the  valley 
of  Gehenna. 

II.  This  is  the  original  meaning  of  the  passage.  Now 
let  us  turn  to  its  general  application.  It  teaches  us, 
like  all  other  parts  of  our  Lord's  teaching,  that  not  the 
outward  act,  but  the  inward  spirit,  is  that  which  God 
judges.  But  it  also  calls  our  special  attention  to  the 
mischief  and  the  sin  of  our  words.  This  is  what  He 
said  on  another  occasion :  "  By  thy  words  thou  shalt  be 
justified,  and  by  thy  words  thou  shalt  be  condemned :  " 
and  it  is  what  His  apostle  St.  James  insists  upon  as  the 
distinguishing  mark  between  true  and  false  religion  — 
the  power  of  governing  the  tongue.  Considering  the 
vast  number  of  words  that  issue  from  our  lips,  consid- 
ering how  much  of  our  life  is  carried  on  in  talking, 
speaking,  preaching,  writing,  reading,  listening  —  this 
is  a  truth  which  cannot  be  too  much  insisted  on.  No 
doubt  there  is  a  precision  in  words  which  is  pedantic ; 
but  all  honor  and  praise  to  those  who,  consciously  or 
unconsciously,  obey  their  Lord's  command,  and  try  to 
measure  their  language,  to  define  what  they  mean  to 
themselves,  to  avoid  phrases  without  meaning,  or  which 


378 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


may  injure  and  hurt  the  interests  and  feelings  of  others. 
No  doubt  there  are  cases  where,  like  our  Lord  Himself, 
we  are  bound  to  use  strong  words  against  folly  and  sin. 
But  there  are  some  whose  lips  act  not  as  a  fence  to 
their  tongues,  but  as  a  mere  opening,  through  which 
flows  an  unceasing  cataract  of  words  —  good,  bad,  light, 
heavy,  wise,  foolish  —  without  care  or  thought  of  who 
may  hear  or  of  what  may  follow.  There  are  also  some 
whose  pens  are  dipped  in  gall,  who  seem  to  delight  in 
saying  what  will  vex  or  annoy  their  neighbors ;  who 
have  a  cynical  sneer,  a  scornful  jest,  a  bitter  insult  for 
every  one  whom  they  meet.  Their  whole  conversation 
is  one  long  repetition  of  "  Raca,  Raca."  Truly  they 
are  in  danger  of  condemnation  of  the  council  —  not  of 
any  earthly  council,  but  of  the  council  of  all  good  and 
wise  men  everywhere,  of  the  council  of  the  calm,  and 
just,  and  holy,  of  those  who  know,  with  our  own 
Hooker,  that  "the  time  will  come  when  three  words 
spoken  in  charity  will  be  worth  more  than  ten  thousand 
words  of  disdainful  scorn." 

But  there  is  yet  a  still  more  special  application.  The 
judgment  of  our  Lord  is  yet  more  penetrating.  There 
are  many  men  who,  whilst  they  avoid  the  common  pro- 
fane terms  of  abuse  and  contempt,  yet  think  it  even  a 
duty  to  use  those  words  of  bitter  inextinguishable 
hatred  which  have  come  down  to  us,  like  the  Hebrew 
word  moreh,  charged  with  the  passions  and  prejudices 
of  a  thousand  generations  —  those  names  which  having 
been  invented  long  ago  by  political  or  religious  ani- 
mosity, perhaps  almost  with  an  innocent  intention,  con- 
vey now  a  depth  of  offensiveness  which  no  other  words 
from  the  mouth  of  men  could  convey.  I  hardly  venture 
in  this  sacred  place  to  call  up  the  black  catalogue  of 
such  names  before  you,  yet  from  places  as  sacred  as 
this  they  have  unhappily  been  often  heard.    They  are 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


379 


legion.  On  one  side  they  are  "  heretic,  schismatic, 
rationalist,  infidel,  deist,  socinian,  atheist ;  "  on  the  other 
they  are  "  papist,  antichrist,  Bab}don,  idolater,  blas- 
phemer, traitor ;  "  on  one  side  or  on  the  other  they  are 
followed  by  a  brood  of  other  like  names.  They  are 
one  and  all  repetitions  of  the  same  old  word,  "  rebel," 
"heretic,"  expressed  by  the  Hebrew  word  moreh — they 
combine  within  themselves,  as  did  that  word,  the  in- 
tense virulence,  both  of  the  Jewish  and  of  the  Gentile 
race ;  they  have  one  and  all  been  applied  in  their  day  to 
the  best  and  wisest  of  men ;  and  they  are  one  and  all 
good  for  nothing  but  to  be  thrown  into  the  valley  of 
Hinnom,  and  burnt  up  with  the  filth  and  offal,  and  off- 
scourings of  dead  abuses,  and  worn-out  hatreds,  and 
extinct  controversies.  Even  though,  like  the  word 
moreh  itself,  they  may  once  have  come  out  of  Scripture, 
and  from  the  pure  fountain  of  life,  they  have  now  be- 
come full  of  fire  and  brimstone ;  they  are  as  worthless, 
as  mischievous,  as  polluting,  as  the  coarse  oaths  and 
scurrilous  epithets  which  are  used  by  the  less  refined 
in  their  daily  quarrels  and  wrangles  in  taverns  and  in 
fish-markets. 

These  thoughts  are  unhappily  never  out  of  place. 
Everywhere  there  will  be  some  who  are  tempted  to  use 
these  or  like  words  against  their  neighbors  ;  everywhere 
there  will  be  those  who  in  sermons,  or  in  newspapers, 
or  in  speeches,  if  not  in  common  conversation,  think  it 
a  sacred  duty  to  use  them.  And  thus  our  Lord's  warn- 
ing needs  to  be  everywhere  lifted  up.  We  have  given 
up  the  ancient  practice  of  killing  our  neighbors  by  slow 
torture  in  deep  dungeons,  or  of  carrying  out  our  quar- 
rels with  murderous  weapons.  "Feudal  vengeance  and 
the  barbarous  custom  of  duelling  are  both  abandoned. 
The  more  necessary  is  it  that  we  should  be  reminded 
that  this  is  not  enough,  unless  we  restrain  our  tongues 


380 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


from  those  fierce  words  of  scorn  which  duelling  at 
least  attempted  to  control ;  the  more  do  we  need  to  be 
reminded  that  not  only  is  every  duellist  a  murderer, 
but  he  who  says  to  his  brother  "  Raca,"  that  is,  who 
uses  those  insulting  words  which  set  the  human  heart 
on  fire,  and  leave  a  blister  there  forever. 

And  again,  we  have  given  up  the  practice  of  killing 
our  neighbors  by  fire,  and  sword,  and  rack,  and  scourge, 
for  holding  different  opinions  from  ourselves.  So  much 
the  more  necessary  is  it  for  xis  to  remember  that  this  is 
not  enough,  unless  we  restrain  our  tongues  from  those 
biting  and  burning  words  which  show  that  we  nourish 
in  our  hearts  the  same  feelings  of  undying  wrath  that 
our  ruder  forefathers  expressed  by  carrying  fagots  to 
the  stake,  or  tearing  the  flesh  from  the  bones  of  our 
victims.  So  much  the  more  do  we  need  to  be  reminded 
that  not  only  the  old  Inquisitors  or  the  old  Puritans 
were  persecutors,  but  all  who  say  to  their  brethren, 
Moreh,  that  is,  "  rebel,"  "  heretic,"  that  is,  who  use 
those  anathemas  and  furious  words  of  ancient  heredi- 
tary reproach,  which  are  meant  to  break  up  Christian 
union,  and  destroy  Christian  fellowship. 

These  expressions  are  beyond  the  reach  of  earthly 
tribunals  of  judgment  and  of  council ;  but  not  the  less 
are  they  doomed  to  that  extremity  of  condemnation  of 
which  the  valley  of  Hinnom  was  the  type  and  symbol. 
They  belong  to  that  mass  of  worthless  chaff,  and  of 
stinging  briers  and  brambles,  which  will  be  burned  up 
at  last,  as  we  hope,  in  a  fire  unquenchable. 

III.  This  warning,  spoken  first  against  the  language 
of  individuals,  is  also  needed  for  the  language  of 
Churches  and  nations:  It  is  needed  for  them  even 
more,  because  the  interests  at  issue  are  greater ;  be- 
cause also  their  temptation  to  indulge  in  these  words  is 
stronger.   Look  at  the  Churches  of  Christendom.  How 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH.  381 


many  a  solemn  document  has  issued  from  press  or 
pulpit,  which  is,  after  all,  nothing  but  a  long  reverbera- 
tion of  Moreh,  moreh,  "  Thou  fool !  thou  rebel !  "  Look 
at  the  anathemas  hurled  in  former  times  by  East  against 
West,  and  by  West  against  East,  by  Presbyterians 
against  Prelates,  and  by  Prelates  against  schismatics. 
Listen  to  their  echoes  in  our  own  times  —  fainter,  let 
us  hope,  but  still  coming  of  the  same  stock,  springing 
out  of  the  same  bottomless  pit.  Look,  too,  at  the 
contemptuous  insolence  with  which  nations  have  in- 
vented words  of  reproval  for  hostile  or  oppressed  or 
subject  nations  ;  words  which  stick  in  the  memory  when 
the  occasion,  the  excuse  for  them  has  long  ceased ; 
fountains  of  bitterness,  which  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration keep  alive  the  sense  of  soreness  and  revenge, 
and  stimulate  to  deeds  of  bloodshed  and  war. 

What  is  the  check  to  all  this?  It  is  contained  in 
one  word,  which  occurs  throughout  this  passage  —  "  Thy 
brother."  Each  man,  in  common  life,  has  a  brotherly, 
family  relation  to  his  neighbor,  even  to  his  enemy,  which 
ought  to  make  him  feel  and  practise  towards  him  some- 
thing of  a  brother's  respect,  something  of  a  brother's 
consideration.  Each  Church  and  nation  —  at  least  of 
Christendom  —  has  a  brotherly,  sisterly  relationship 
with  all  other  Churches  and  nations ;  flesh  of  the  same 
flesh,  bone  of  the  same  bone,  called  by  the  same  sacred 
name ;  which  ought  at  least  to  induce  courtesy,  sym- 
pathy, fear  to  give  offence,  wish  to  bury  the  past,  deter- 
mination never  to  quarrel,  hope  to  avoid  irritating 
words,  as  well  as  irritating  acts,  and  malignant  names, 
which  are  but  covers  of  malignant  deeds. 

There  are  many  cases  to  which  these  remarks  might 
specially  appty.  There  is  one  immediately  at  hand. 
This  day  is  the  Fourth  of  J uly.  It  is  the  anniversary 
of  the  Declaration  of  American  Independence  —  the 


382 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH. 


anniversary  of  the  breach  between  the  mother  and  the 
daughter  country.  On  such  a  day  may"  we  not  feel 
that  our  Lord's  warnings  have  a  peculiar  significance 
and  force  ?  The  sons  of  that  great  Republic  are,  indeed, 
our  brothers  —  brothers  in  a  sense  in  which  no  other 
two  great  nations  on  the  face  of  this  earth  are  brothers 
and  sisters  to  each  other ;  speaking  the  same  language, 
inheriting  the  same  traditions,  descended  from  the  same 
ancestors,  intwined  with  the  same  dearest  relationships, 
rejoicing  in  the  same  history,  in  the  same  faith,  in  the 
same  hopes. 

Both,  no  doubt,  of  these  two  mighty  brothers  have, 
like  the  actual  brothers  of  an  actual  family,  had  their 
temper  tried  or  their  passions  roused,  sometimes  the 
elder  by  the  younger,  sometimes  the  younger  by  the 
elder ;  but  not  the  less  are  the  ancient  bonds  of  union 
indissoluble,  not  the  less  of  them  are  the  poet's  words 
true :  — 

No  distance  breaks  the  tie  of  blood ; 

Brothers  are  brothers  evermore ; 
Nor  -wrong,  nor  wrath  of  deadliest  mood, 

That  magic  may  o'erpower.1 

And  how  specially  true  is  it  of  these  brothers  that  hard 
words  may  kill,  and  gentle  words  save,  the  peace  and 
life  between  them  !  How  deeply  was  that  first  breach 
widened  on  the  first  anniversary  by  the  bitter  recrim- 
inations of  king  and  statesmen,  of  the  mother  country 
and  of  the  daughter  colony !  How  fiercely  were  the 
words  tossed  to  and  fro  across  the  Atlantic  —  M  Raca  " 
on  one  side,  and  "  Moreh  "  on  the  other;  "tyrant"  from 
the  one,  and  "  rebel  "  from  the  other !  Yet  how  speedily, 
how  easily  was  that  wound  closed !  how  soon  did  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  become  the  name  for  the 
peaceful  birth  of  a  new  and  glorious  nation !  how  soon 

i  Keble's  Christian  Tear,  2d  Sunday  after  Trinity. 


THE  CHRISTIAN  RULE  OF  SPEECH.  383 


did  the  minister  of  the  young  Republic  pay  respectful 
homage,  and  receive  respectful  recognition,  in  the  court 
of  the  ancient  sovereign !  What  American  is  there 
who  is  not  now  proud  of  that  history,  Avhich  he  then 
spurned  behind  him  ?  What  Englishman  is  there  who 
is  not  now  proud  of  the  once  dreaded  name  of  Wash- 
ington ? 

So,  as  years  roll  on,  may  all  those  fierce  watchwords 
of  party  strife  and  national  hatred  perish  and  cease  to 
be  !  So  may  each  succeeding  generation  learn  to  leave 
those  ancient  curses  to  consume  away  in  the  fires  of 
the  dark  valley  whence  they  came,  among  the  offal  and 
carrion  from  which  they  originally  sprang ! 

Woe  on  either  side  to  those  who  revive  those  relics 
of  barbarous  days,  those  signals  of  strife  and  bitter- 
ness !  Blessings  on  those  peacemakers  who,  from 
either  side,  by  gentle  phrase,  by  conciliating  temper, 
by  determination  not  to  give  or  take  offence,  by  rigid 
abstinence  from  insulting  words,  as  from  something 
altogether  unholy  and  accursed,  bind  together  the  two 
nations  in  one  communion  and  fellowship  of  good 
deeds,  great  thoughts,  and  undying  hopes  of  a  yet 
more  blessed  future  for  both,  in  the  far  distant  history 
of  which  this  day  was  the  first  inauguration  —  when 
neither  distance  of  space  nor  wrath  of  man  shall  put 
asunder  those  whom  God,  by  speech,  by  blood,  by  the 
wonders  of  Science,  and  by  the  grace  of  Religion,  has 
joined  together. 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


June  6, 1866,  at  the  first  annual  service  for  the  Bishop  of  London's  Fund.1 

Build  Thou  the  walls  of  Jerusalem.  —  Psalm  li.  18. 

We  are  met  together  to  consecrate  a  great  religious 
effort.  Let  us  for  a  moment  look  at  such  religious  ef- 
forts and  consecrations  in  former  times.  They  will 
teach  us  what  is  meant  by  enthusiasm  in  a  holy  cause. 
These  walls  themselves  speak  to  us  of  it  in  language 
not  to  be  mistaken.  Had  we  been  present  here  at  such 
a  meeting  as  this  in  the  twelfth  or  thirteenth  century, 
every  one  would  have  known  what  had  called  us  to- 

1  Prayer  before  the  Sermon.  —  O  Lord,  raise  up,  we  pray  Thee,  Thy 
power  and  come  among  us,  and  with  great  might  succor  us  ;  that 
whereas  through  our  sins  and  wickedness  we  are  sore  let  and  hindered 
in  running  the  race  that  is  set  before  us,  we  may  daily  increase  and  go 
forwards  in  the  knowledge  and  faith  of  Thee  and  of  Thy  Son,  by  the 
Holy  Spirit  :  so  that  as  well  by  these  Thy  ministers,  as  by  them  amongst 
whom  they  minister,  Thy  holy  Name  may  be  forever  glorified,  and  Thy 
blessed  Kingdom  enlarged.  Grant  unto  them  grace  and  wisdom  to 
hold  up  the  weak,  heal  the  sick,  bind  up  the  broken,  bring  again  the 
outcasts,  seek  the  lost,  in  this  vast  city,  scattered  abroad  as  sheep  with- 
out a  shepherd.  Put  it  into  the  hearts  of  those  whom  Thou  hast  blessed 
with  wealth  and  power,  as  they  have  freely  received,  freely  to  give  of 
their  abundance.  Take  away  from  us  all  hatred  and  prejudice,  and 
whatever  else  may  hinder  us  from  godly  union  and  concord  in  all  good 
works;  that  as  there  is  but  one  Body,  and  one  Spirit,  and  one  hope  of 
our  calling,  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,  one  God  and  Father  of  us 
all,  so  we  may  henceforth  be  all  of  one  heart  and  one  soul,  united  in  one 
holy  bond  of  Truth  and  Peace,  and  Faith  and  Charity;  through  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord.  Amen. 

Service  for  the  Day.  —  First  Lesson,  Isa.  lxi.    Second  Lesson,  St. 
John  x.  1-16.  Anthem,  "  Hallelujah  Chorus."  Introit,  "  Jerusalem  the 
Golden."    Epistle,  1  St.  John  iv.  7-21.   Gospel,  St.  Luke  xvi.  19-31. 
384 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


385 


gether.  The  object  which  then  occupied  the  whole 
religious  world  was  one  which  admitted  of  no  mistake, 
and  no  wavering  allegiance.  We  should  have  been 
inaugurating  one  of  the  mighty  efforts  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  Holy  City  from  the  hands  of  the  Saracens. 
To  this  work  the  first  Crusading  king  was  devoted 
almost  on  the  day  of  his  coronation  in  this  place.  Into 
this  work  two  of  the  princes  who  here  lie  close  to  each 
other  flung  themselves  no  less  eagerly.  Another  ex- 
pired almost  beneath  this  roof,  with  the  expression  on 
his  lips  of  the  long-cherished  hope  that  he  should  die 
in  Jerusalem.  Another,  his  still  more  stirring  son,  the 
conqueror  of  Agincourt,  as  he  lay  on  his  deathbed,  and 
heard  the  chanting  of  the  penitential  Psalm,  bade  them 
halt  at  the  words,  "  Build  Thou  the  walls  of  Jerusalem," 
and  with  the  dying  wish  that  he  could  have  fulfilled 
that  prayer,  as  once  he  had  hoped,  passed  away  from 
the  earth.  The  venerable  ancestress  of  the  House  of 
Tudor,  no  less  saintly  than  wise,  carried  on  the  strain, 
and  breathed  the  last  sigh  of  those  inspiring  times,  when 
she  declared  that  if  the  Christian  princes  would  again 
combine  in  one  final  effort,  she  would  attend  the  army 
in  the  humblest  and  meanest  of  all  capacities.  So  gen- 
eral, so  ardent,  was  that  great  enthusiasm.  All  shared 
in  it.  Even  those  that  remained  aloof  dared  not  con- 
demn it.  Even  the  second  founder  of  this  noble  edifice 
was  hardly  excused  by  all  his  splendid  works  for  his 
unwillingness  to  join  in  the  universal  effort.  Princes, 
nobles,  peasants,  women,  soldiers,  clergy,  even  little 
children  caught  the  grand  contagion.  None  liked  to 
be  behindhand.  It  was  discreditable,  it  was  unortho- 
dox, it  was  unworthy,  it  was  cowardly  to  hang  back. 
Many  motives,  worldly,  superstitious,  religious,  —  ex- 
citement, romance,  love  of  adventure,  —  mingled  in  the 
persuasion  that  drew  them  on.   Still  the  thing  itself  was, 


386 


THE  CKUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


as  we  say,  in  the  air :  there  was  a  fixed  belief  that  to  join 
in  the  attempt  was  the  Will  of  God,  and  for  that  Will 
they  were  prepared  to  spend  fortune  and  life,  in  the  full 
conviction  that  in  so  doing  they  were  doing  the  best  for 
themselves,  for  the  world,  and  for  God. 

This  enthusiasm  has  long  since  passed  away.  The 
Crusader  sleeps  on  his  marble  tomb,  and  no  successors 
have  risen  to  follow  in  his  train.  It  may  even  be  said 
that  the  effort  itself  was  founded  on  a  mistake,  and  was 
for  an  object  which  has  come  to  naught.  But  I  have 
called  your  attention  to  it,  because  it  exactly  exemplifies 
what  sort  of  passion  and  energy  that  is  which  is  needed 
to  accomplish  mighty  works  ;  and  because,  as  we  think 
of  it,  the  question  irresistibly  rises  in  our  minds,  Is 
there  no  new  Crusade  which  we  can  preach,  and  you 
can  fight,  now  that  the  old  Crusades  are  dead  and 
gone  ?  Is  there  no  Xew  Jerusalem  to  be  built  again, 
its  waste  city  raised  up,  its  desolations  of  many  genera- 
tions repaired  ? 

Yes ;  there  is  assuredly  the  vast  Christian  effort,  of 
which  one  part  at  least  has  called  us  here  together. 
The  Crusade  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  not  less  holy, 
not  less  stirring,  than  that  of  the  thirteenth.  The 
Jerusalem  for  which  we  must  live  and  die  is  that  which 
lies  all  around  us  in  this  enormous  city,  ground  down 
by  evils  as  gigantic  and  as  terrible  as  ever  were  the 
oppressors  under  whom  the  Syrian  Jerusalem  groaned, 
but  to  be  raised,  repaired,  restored,  enlarged.  Look 
to  the  Gospel  and  Epistle  of  this  week ;  the  Gospel 
which  proclaims  the  rich  man's  duties,  the  Epistle  in 
which  the  beloved  disciple  entreats  us  "to  love  one 
another:"  "If  God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to  love 
one  another."  These  are  the  war-cries  of  our  Crusade  ; 
this  is  the  enthusiasm  which  we  are  to  enkindle.  To 
love,  that  is,  to  make  the  best  and  the  most  of  every 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


387 


human  soul,  to  make  this  the  chief  object  of  our  politi- 
cal, ecclesiastical,  and  social  life,  —  this  is  what  we  have 
to  proclaim.  To  hang  back  from  this  war  of  charity, 
this  chivalric  attack  of  beneficence,  on  sin,  and  igno- 
rance, and  selfishness,  and  misery^  and  want,  is  as  he- 
retical, as  discreditable  —  may  I  say,  as  unworthy  of  a 
nobleman,  or  a  gentleman,  or  a  Christian?  —  as  ever  was 
thought  the  conduct  of  recreant  knight,  or  selfish  prince, 
or  worldly  merchant,  who  refused  to  take  the  Red  Cross 
under  Richard  or  Saint  Louis. 

The  object  surely  is  ten  thousand  times  greater.  It 
is  not,  as  then,  for  the  mere  name  of  Christ,  or  for  the 
outward  sepulchre  of  Christ,  but  for  the  very  work 
and  command  of  Christ  Himself  that  we  are  now  called 
to  fight.  In  a  certain  limited  sense  He  was  with  the  old 
Crusaders,  as  He  was  with  the  ancient  Jews.  But  in 
the  call  to  universal  charity,  in  the  call  to  build  up  the 
ruins  of  human  society,  to  repair  the  breaches,  and 
guard  against  the  decay,  of  ages,  we  are  in  the  most 
absolute  and  literal  sense  obeying  the  summons  which 
He  made  to  His  first  disciples,  and  which  is  of  the  very 
essence  of  His  character.  It  is  for  the  sake  of  rais- 
ing, recovering,  purifying,  sanctifying,  humanizing  those 
very  souls  for  which  He  died,  that  we  are  called  to  make 
a  new  effort,  to  receive  a  new  commandment,  to  sound  a 
new  Crusade,  to  awaken  a  new  devotion. 

And  that  devotion,  let  us  be  sure,  is  there  to  arouse, 
if  we  know  how  to  find  it,  and  how  to  employ  it.  Per- 
suade by  your  success,  by  your  sincere  and  enlightened 
zeal,  the  powerful,  the  intelligent,  the  wealthy  classes 
of  this  metropolis  and  of  this  country,  that  any  good 
work  in  which  you  are  engaged  is  one  of  pure,  unmixed 
usefulness ;  and  then,  depend  upon  it,  the  spirit  of  the 
Crusaders  will  once  more  rise  in  the  hearts  of  us  their 
descendants ;  the  generosity  of  the  ancient  princes  and 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


prelates  of  the  Middle  Ages  will  revive,  as  it  actually 
has  revived  in  the  minds  of  at  least  two  illustrious  and 
munificent  individuals  of  our  own  day,  who  have  had 
the  discernment  to  see  their  object  clear  before  them, 
and  the  grace  to  accomplish  it  by  their  ample  means ; 
and  this  spirit  will  spread  with  a  force  as  much  more 
mighty,  an  effect  as  much  more  visible,  as  the  resources 
of  our  age  are  vaster  than  those  of  five  centuries  past, 
as  the  victories  of  zeal  according  to  knowledge,  and 
faith  working  by  love,  ought  to  be  greater  than  of  zeal 
almost  without  knowledge,  and  faith  almost  without 
charity. 

If  henceforth  it  could  become  the  rule  of  English  life 
that  all  should  devote  at  least  a  tenth  of  their  income  to 
the  good  of  others  in  anv  form  that  seems  best  to  the 
mind  of  each,  what  a  revolution  might  be  effected  in 
the  condition  of  the  poor,  what  an  alleviation  of  human 
suffering,  what  a  blessed  change  in  the  prospects  of 
Christianity  itself! 

So  much  for  the  general  call  of  our  age.  Let  me 
state  some  of  the  reasons  why,  in  this  call,  the  work  of 
the  evangelization  of  London,  for  which  we  are  now 
met  together,  may  justly  take  a  chief  place ;  why  it  is, 
humanly  speaking,  full  of  the  promise  of  the  utmost 
good,  with  the  slightest  admixture  of  evil. 

First,  whatever  it  may  effect,  it  professes  no  other 
object  than  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  people  of 
London.  It  attacks  no  one,  it  attacks  nothing,  except 
sin  and  ignorance.  It  is  not  intended  to  exclude  any, 
but  to  include  all.  It'  represents  no  party  in  the 
Church  of  England,  but  the  Church  of  England  itself. 
Whatever  the  Church  of  England  is,  that  also  in  its 
measure  is  the  Bishop  of  London's  Fund.  It  holds  out 
its  resources  to  all  within  the  Church  who  choose  to 
use  them.    It  does  not  throw  over  this  or  that  person, 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


389 


this  or  that  party,  because  they  happen  for  the  moment 
to  be  unpopular.  It  has  the  courage  rather  to  support 
them,  even  at  the  cost  of  temporary  sacrifice.  No 
forms  of  Christian  belief  within  our  pale,  however 
extreme,  are  exempted  from  a  share  in  its  aid,  if  only 
they  are  combined  with  active  usefulness  in  the  Lord's 
vineyard.  The  name  of  "the  Bishop  of  London's 
Fund  "  is  itself  a  guaranty  for  its  true  character.  It 
owes  its  origin  to  the  unwearying  charity  and  energy 
with  which,  at  the  cost  of  ease  and  health,  your  present 
Chief  Pastor  has  thrown  himself  into  this  and  every 
other  movement  for  the  welfare  of  his  great  diocese. 
But  it  takes  its  permanent  stand  on  that  diocese  itself. 
Each  of  the  leading  sees  of  the  English  Church  has, 
no  doubt,  its  own  historical  influences  which  may  trans- 
form its  occupant  into  something  beyond  himself.  But 
of  all  these  influences,  though  some  may  be  more 
elevating,  others  more  magnificent,  others  more  re- 
straining, others  more  enlightening,  others  more  poetic, 
none  can  be  more  inspiring  of  large  beneficence,  of 
practical  sense,  of  wide  impartiality,  of  lofty  designs, 
than  those  which  belong  to  the  see  of  this  immense 
metropolis.  Here,  if  in  any  see  in  Christendom,  the 
magnitude  of  the  task  may  well  humble  the  proudest, 
the  vainest  of  men ;  before  its  multiplicity  of  conflict- 
ing views  and  interests  the  narrowest  may  become  wide; 
the  very  thought  of  presiding  over  the  greatest  city 
which  this  earth  contains,  with  all  its  world-wide  power 
and  wealth,  might  well  raise  the  most  prosaic  and  most 
worldly  of  men  above  the  petty  struggles  of  the  mo- 
ment in  Church  and  State,  into  the  atmosphere  of  those 
deeds  and  thoughts  which  belong  not  to  party,  but  to 
mankind,  the  love  of  human  souls,  and  the  fear  of  God 
Most  High.  Other  sees  may  lose  their  significance,  but 
the  see  of  London  never,  so  long  as  England  remains  a 


390 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


nation.  In  the  result  of  this  effort,  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land is  on  its  trial,  failing  with  its  failure,  triumphant 
in  its  success. 

Secondly,  the  work  before  us  belongs  exactly  to  that 
kind  of  duty  in  which  the  teaching  of  the  Gospel  and 
the  circumstances  of  our  time  coincide  with  the  utmost 
force. 

The  sin  which  Christ  most  frequently  denounces  (with 
one  exception,  of  which  we  are  not  now  speaking)  is  the 
sin  of  doing  nothing.  It  is  the  sin  of  the  rich  man  of  this 
week's  Gospel,  of  whom  no  ill  is  recorded,  except  that  a 
poor  man  lay  at  his  gate,  and  received  no  comfort  or 
sympathy.  It  is  the  sin  to  which  the  easy,  the  wealthy, 
the  prosperous,  are  constantly  tempted.  It  is  the  sin 
—  or  the  virtue,  as  we  sometimes  call  it  —  of  letting 
well  alone,  of  not  meddling  in  other  men's  matters,  of 
trusting  that  Providence  will  find  a  way  for  escape. 
That  old  maxim  of  ecclesiastical  wisdom,  M  to  let  things 
go  as  they  are  going,"  has  a  kind  of  prudence  of  this 
world,  of  prudence  in  one  sense,  but  in  all  higher  senses 
a  rashness  how  portentous !  To  let  things  go  as  they 
are  going ;  to  let  this  vast  population  go  on  increasing, 
multiplying,  with  no  restraining,  regenerating  influences, 
till  it  becomes  uncontrollable,  unmanageable,  illimitable, 
as  the  sea  in  its  strength,  as  the  fire  in  its  fury ;  to  let 
this  huge  train  of  human  society,  with  all  its  precious 
freight  of  human  lives  and  souls,  rush  on  towards  the 
chasm  which  lies  before  it :  to  let  it  pass,  because  per- 
chance it  will  last  our  day,  because  we  have  not  taken 
the  trouble  to  look  ahead,  or  go  forwards  with  the  sig- 
nal of  danger,  or  repair  the  broken  line  which  it  has  to 
traverse;  —  this  neglect,  this  indifference  is,  as  we  say, 
only  negligence,  only  indolence,  only  want  of  fore- 
thought. But  oh  !  with  what  tremendous  consequences, 
with  what  crash  of  hopes  and  lives,  even  in  the  smaller 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


391 


spheres  of  human  duty !  with  what  still  greater  crashes, 
sooner  or  later,  in  the  history  of  nations  !  All  honor 
to  any  one  who  has  the  courage  at  least  to  look  the 
peril  in  the  face ;  to  wave  the  danger-flag ;  to  discard 
that  old  maxim,  of  which  I  just  now  spoke,  so  popular 
in  the  days  of  old ;  to  "go  before  his  flock,"  in  the  true 
spirit  of  the  Good  Shepherd,  if  with  no  other  purpose, 
at  least  to  show  what  is  to  be  done,  what  to  be  feared, 
what  to  be  hoped. 

Truly,  in  this  matter  of  the  neglect  of  the  moral  con- 
dition of  our  humbler  population,  as  in  the  matter  of 
the  neglect  of  the  material  resources  of  our  country, 
we  may  listen  to  that  warning  voice  which  was  raised 
but  the  other  day  in  the  great  Council  of  the  nation, 
reminding  us  of  the  sacrifices  we  are  bound  to  make 
for  the  sake  of  posterity ;  reminding  us  of  the  immense 
debt  we  owe  to  posterity,  which  it  is  our  bounden  duty 
to  repay.  "  In  the  name  of  that  dutiful  concern  for 
posterity  which  has  been  strong  in  every  nation  that 
ever  did  any  thing  great,  and  which  has  never  left  the 
mind  of  any  such  nation  until  it  was  already  falling 
into  decrepitude," 1  our  philosophic  statesman  called 
upon  us  to  husband  our  natural  resources,  that  we 
might  still  bequeath  to  the  coming  generations  the 
gifts  which  former  generations  have  bequeathed  to  us. 
In  the  name  of  that  same  dutiful  concern  for  posterity, 
the  Christian  Evangelist  may  well  labor  to  see  that  we 
do  what  in  us  lies  to  diminish  that  festering  mass  of 
barbarism,  and  irreligion,  and  ignorance,  against  which 
the  most  heroic  virtue  of  after  times  will  else  contend 
in  vain,  —  may  well  labor  to  be  the  unseen,  unknown 
yet  not  unremembered,  benefactor  of  ages  yet  unborn. 
It  is  not  too  late  now :  it  may  be  too  late  a  few  years 
hence. 

i  Speech  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill,  on  the  Malt  Duty,  April  17,  1866. 


392 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


And  thirdly,  how  is  this  good  work  so  auspiciously, 
so  opportunely  begun,  to  be  carried  on  ? 

It  must  be  carried  on,  like  all  good  works  in  this 
complicated  age  of  ours,  not  by  solitary  efforts,  not  by 
the  Red-Cross  knight  pricking  forth  alone  in  quest  of 
adventure,  but  by  organization,  by  co-operation,  by  dis- 
cipline, by  comprehension  of  all  the  gifts  you  can  com- 
mand. There  should  be  a  place  for  every  one  who  is 
ready  to  work  in  the  army  of  God.  "  The  enthusiasm 
should  not  be  allowed  to  die  out  in  an}r  one  for  want 
of  the  occupation  best  calculated  to  keep  it  alive." 
This  work  should  be  the  natural  outlet  for  all  the  pent- 
up  energies  of  our  multifarious  age.  All  the  random 
enterprise,  honest  doubt,  imperfect  faith,  eccentric  ac- 
tivity, eager  zeal,  homely  sense,  ardent  aspirations  of 
the  rising  generation  should  here  find  that  they  have 
their  proper  work  to  do  under  their  willing  leaders. 
Let  one,  if  he  can,  win  souls  by  his  ritual ;  another, 
if  he  can,  by  his  schools ;  another  by  his  preaching 
and  teaching ;  another  by  his  provident  clubs  or  his 
lectures ;  another  by  his  personal  intercourse  from 
house  to  house ;  let  one  throw  himself  into  the  force 
of  the  everlasting  Gospel  of  Jesus  Christ  in  its  original 
fulness  and  freshness ;  let  another,  if  he  finds  it  more 
easy,  work  it  out  in  its  later  dogmatic  manifestations. 
"  There  are  diversities  of  gifts,  but  the  same  Spirit  .  .  . 
differences  of  administration,  but  the  same  Lord  .  .  . 
diversities  of  operations,  but  it  is  the  same  God  which 
worketh  all  in  all.*'  Here,  it  may  be,  a  sudden,  strong 
inroad  is  to  be  made  to  clear  out  one  of  those  nests  of 
corruption  which  infect  a  whole  neighborhood ;  there, 
we  see  the  beneficent  effect  of  the  better  dwellings  and 
purer  hahits  to  which  modern  philanthropy  at  last  has 
turned  its  serious  attention ;  here  (which,  I  am  told, 
is  now  the  special  need  and  opportunity)  districts, 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


393 


separated  from  the  overgrown  parishes  of  which  they 
form  a  part,  are  to  be  turned  into  separate,  and,  as  it 
is  hoped  in  time,  self-supporting  spheres  of  pastoral 
ministration.  Only  in  all  let  us  bear  in  mind  the  end 
for  which  we  labor;  the  end  for  which  the  walls  of 
Jerusalem  are  to  be  built  up ;  the  end  for  which,  in 
simpler  and  more  Christian  language,  "  he  who  loves 
God  is  to  love  his  brother  also.''  It  is  to  make  the 
people  of  London  better  than  they  are  now.  It  is  to 
make  them  more  temperate,  more  pure,  more  truthful, 
more  devout.  In  comparison  of  this  all  our  appliances 
are  merely  as  means  to  ends.  Ritual,  preaching,  schools, 
church-going,  chapel-going,  Religion  itself,  are  but  so 
many  means  which  God  in  His  infinite  mercy  has  given 
to  bring  men  nearer  to  Himself,  by  making  them  like 
to  Himself  in  holiness,  goodness,  and  truth.  Individu- 
als, households,  streets,  reclaimed  from  vice  and  sin, 
and  living  justly,  soberly,  and  reverently,  in  the  fear 
of  God  and  in  charity  with  their  neighbors  —  these  are 
the  one  convincing  proof  of  the  reality  of  your  mission, 
of  the  efficiency  of  your  work.  For  the  sake  of  mak- 
ing men  good  —  it  is  a  homely  phrase,  but  it  is  no  less 
certainly  true  —  Christ  lived,  died,  and  rose  again. 
For  the  sake  of  making  men  good,  we  must  not  disdain, 
after  His  example,  and  in  His  Spirit,  to  spend,  and  to 
be  spent.  Choose  for  this  end,  let  this  Fund  choose 
for  this  end,  whatever  means,  after  mature  experience, 
are  thought  best  to  secure  it.  But  in  God's  name,  in 
the  name  of  Christ  our  Saviour,  remember  that  this 
is  our  end,  and  that  unless  we  in  some  measure  accom- 
plish it,  the  Church  and  the  world  alike  will  believe 
that  we  have  spent  our  time  for  naught.  Be  this  your 
boast,  be  this  your  joy,  that  you  have  toiled  not  for 
exalting  yourselves  or  your  party,  or  even  your  Church ; 
but  for  making  men  like  Christ,  and  earth  like  heaven  ; 


394 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


for  making  these  hundreds  and  thousands  of  forgotten 
souls  worthy  of  Christian  England,  manly,  upright,  citi- 
zens, alike  of  the  earthly  and  of  the  heavenly  city. 

And  for  this  object  we  have  a  peculiar  advantage, 
and  a  peculiar  reward.  It  is  the  peculiar  honor  and 
privilege  of  our  Established  Church,  that,  whatever  its 
defects,  it  has  this  one  advantage,  possessed  by  none 
of  the  unendowed  priesthoods  and  ministries  of  other 
Churches  and  sects,  that  it  can  preach  the  Gospel  to 
the  poor,  literally,  without  money  and  without  price. 
You  depend  on  no  voluntary  contributions  from  them ; 
you  have  not  to  obtain,  as  others  have,  the  hard-won 
savings  of  those  amongst  whom  you  minister  for  your 
own  maintenance  ;  you  are  "  independent  "  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  This  Fund,  if  it  enables  you  to  do 
nothing  else,  enables  you,  in  the  true  spirit  of  the 
Church  of  England,  to  go  to  those  from  whom  you 
have  nothing  to  gain,  and  who  can  owe  nothing  to 
you,  except  their  own  selves.  Oh.  value  this  privilege 
rightly !  value  it  as  the  greatest  of  ancient  philoso- 
phers, the  greatest  of  Christian  Apostles,  declare  that 
they  valued  it !  It  is  the  only  solution,  in  our  com- 
plicated society,  of  that  difficult  problem  on  which  they 
so  touchingly  dwell,  how  to  combine  the  purity  and  the 
delicacy  of  the  relation  between  teacher  and  taught, 
with  the  honest  hire  of  which  every  laborer  is  worthy, 
with  the  freedom  from  mere  worldly  care,  which  for 
every  high  calling  is  so  indispensable. 

And  it  is  also  the  peculiar  reward  of  your  labors  that 
you  have  to  deal  with  classes  so  little  known,  yet  so 
deeply  interesting,  as  the  vast  population  of  the  poor 
of  England.  We  are  sometimes  told  of  the  romance  of 
missionary  enterprise,  the  charm  which  leads  adventur- 
ous spirits  across  the  sea,  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  dis- 
tant and  heathen  races  of  mankind.    Not  for  a  moment 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


395 


would  I  disparage  such  a  soaring  ambition  as  this.  The 
lonely  death  of  a  lonely  missionary  preacher,  unknown 
and  unrequited,  amongst  the  savages  of  Australia  has, 
believe  me,  moved  the  admiring  envy  of  one  of  the 
calmest  and  most  philosophic  of  modern  inquirers. 
Yet  surely  there  is  a  romance  and  charm  at  least  as 
powerful,  in  purifying  and  elevating  the  future  hope 
of  our  own  country,  the  sturdy  race  of  our  own  flesh 
and  blood,  the  deep  substratum,  from  which  the  heart 
of  our  nation  is  formed,  out  of  which  rise,  from  time  to 
time,  even  the  nobles  and  teachers  of  our  land.  To  ex- 
plore that  unknown  region  (I  will  not  say,  as  some 
would  say,  of  heathen  darkness,  but)  of  twilight  dawn 
or  of  fading  day ;  to  track  the  strange,  mysterious,  in- 
extricable traditions  of  dim  religious  belief  floating  in 
those  unsophisticated  classes  ;  to  ascertain  for  ourselves 
by  hearing  and  seeing  what  is  the  real  unfeigned  creed 
of  the  great  mass  of  the  people  of  England ;  to  catch 
the  growth  of  new  thoughts,  new  customs,  new  habits 
in  the  dark  corners  and  dusky  outskirts  of  our  prime- 
val barbarism ;  to  watch  the  strivings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God,  with  groanings  that  seek  in  vain  for 
articulate  utterance,  yet  intercede  not  in  vain  before 
God  and  man,  as  they  make  themselves  felt  in  the 
natural  conscience  and  the  domestic  affections  even 
of  the  worst  of  men,  against  all  the  force  of  outward 
degradation  and  of  inward  temptation  —  surely  this  is 
a  voyage  of  discovery,  which,  to  the  mere  intellectual 
seeker  after  truth,  much  more  to  the  Evangelist  of 
Christ,  has  all  the  charm  of  an  entrance  into  a  new 
world,  of  a  passage  beyond  the  pillars  of  Hercules, 
into  a  region,  rich  in  virgin  soil,  and  unexhausted 
mines  of  knowledge  and  experience. 

And  not  merely  the  interest,  but  the  instruction  of 
such  an  enterprise  ought  to  be  its  own.  sufficient  reward. 


396 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


In  that  simple,  undefined  religious  belief  of  the  poor, 
defying  all  the  untoward  conditions  of  their  outward 
life ;  in  that  instinct  of  immortality,  proof  against  all 
the  trials,  and  sufferings,  and  oppressions  of  their  hard 
lot;  in  that  deep  unfathomable  sense,  which  neither 
vice  nor  ignorance  can  eradicate,  of  a  Supreme  Judge, 
and  of  an  all-merciful  Saviour  ;  what  an  encouragement 
to  our  wavering  faith,  what  a  rebuke  to  our  artificial 
systems,  what  a  light  shining  in  a  dark  place  to  cheer 
us  onwards  !  In  their  simple,  honest,  truthful  questions, 
in  their  keen  insight  into  the  difficulties  which  have 
perplexed  the  learned  of  all  ages,  what  a  warning  to  us 
to  deal  with  them  in  all  sincerity,  what  a  straight  and 
easy  clew  to  guide  us  through  all  the  labyrinths  of  the 
half-informed  and  the  ill-educated  to  the  simplicity  of 
true  wisdom,  which  is  the  simplicity  that  is  in  Christ ! 

This,  then,  is  your  Crusade.  This  is  that  warfare 
of  Christian  Love,  to  which  in  the  Holy  Communion  of 
this  day  you  pledge  yourselves  by  your  sacramental 
oath  of  allegiance  to  your  heavenly  Captain.  The 
work  will  be  slow  and  gradual.  But  it  will  not,  it 
cannot,  like  those  old  Crusades,  die  and  be  forgotten, 
except  through  our  own  fault.  They  ceased  with  the 
change  of  times  and  modes  of  thought.  But  "the 
poor,"  the  suffering,  ignorant  poor  of  London  will,  I 
fear, "  be  always  with  us,"  as  long  as  London  lasts ;  and 
the  summons  to  assist  them  will,  I  trust,  become  louder 
and  louder  as  England  rises  more  and  more  to  the  sense 
of  her  lofty  calling.  As  often  as  you  see,  or  as  any 
of  us  see,  the  helmet  of  Agincourt,  the  helmet  of  that 
last  of  the  Crusaders,  —  a  Crusader  in  heart,  if  not  in 
act,  —  towering  above  our  heads  in  the  far  vista  of  this 
sacred  edifice,  let  it  remind  you  of  those  dying  words  of 
his  which  I  have  chosen  for  my  text,  "  Build  Thou  the 
walls  of  Jerusalem."    To  his  mind,  doubtless,  they 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


397 


conveyed  the  sense  of  an  expiring  effort,  which  was 
come  too  late  to  accomplish  its  object.  To  our  minds, 
translated  into  true  Christian  language,  they  ought  to 
convey  the  sense  of  an  effort  but  just  begun,  of  a  prayer 
which  depends  on  this  generation  for  its  fulfilment,  of 
a  trumpet-call  which  speaks  not  of  that  which  is  ready 
to  wax  old  and  vanish  away,  but  of  that  which  is  full  of 
life,  and  energy,  and  hope. 

The  heavenly  Jerusalem  cannot  be  built  in  a  day, 
but  it  can  be  built  stone  by  stone,  and  tower  by  tower, 
even  in  the  midst  of  Babylon,  wherever  there  is  a  good 
pastor  to  lead,  and  a  faithful  clergy  to  follow,  and  a 
gallant  laity  to  advise  and  assist,  and  a  noble  people  to 
edify  and  enlighten.  And  if  we  sometimes  dream  of 
more  zealous  faith  or  of  fairer  prospects  in  other  ages 
or  other  lands,  or  of  an  ideal  standard  which  seems 
never  to  be  reached,  yet  here  and  not  there,  now  and 
not  then,  with  the  resources  of  the  present,  not  of  the 
past  or  of  the  future,  our  lot  is  cast.  Be  our  words 
those  of  the  inspired  genius  of  the  painter  1  and  poet, 
whose  illusions  were  sometimes  more  solid  than  other 
men's  realities  — 

And  did  those  Feet  in  ancient  time 
Walk  upon  England's  mountains  green, 

And  was  the  holy  Lamb  of  God 
On  England's  pleasant  pastures  seen  ? 

And  did  the  Countenance  Divine 

Shine  forth  upon  our  clouded  "  heights," 

And  was  Jerusalem  builded  here, 
Among  those  dark  Satanic  "  streets  ?  " 

Bring  me  my  bow  of  burning  gold, 

Bring  me  my  arrows  of  desire ; 
Bring  me  my  spear  —  O  clouds  unfold, 

Bring  me  my  chariot  of  fire  1 

i  Blake. 


THE  CRUSADE  OF  CHARITY. 


I  will  not  cease  from  mental  fight, 
N'or  shall  my  sword  sleep  in  my  hand, 

Till  we  have  built  Jerusalem 
In  England's  green  and  pleasant  land. 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


May  15,  1870,  being  the  day  after  the  arrival  in  England  of  the  remains 
of  Edward  Herbert  and  Frederick  Vyner,  murdered  in  Greece  with 
Edward  Lloyd  and  Count  de  Boyl  on  April  21,  1870. 

Thy  way  is  in  the  sea,  and  Thy  paths  in  the  great  waters,  and  Thy 
footsteps  are  not  known. 

Thou  leu'ilest  Thy  people  like  sheep  by  the  hand  of  Moses  and 
Aaron.  — Psalm  lxxvii.  19,  20. 

This  Psalm,1  sung  in  this  morning's  service,  is  one 
of  which  we  know  not  the  exact  origin,  but  which 
almost  for  that  very  reason  appeals  more  deeply  to  the 
heart  of  all  ages.  It  describes  a  soul  torn  by  some 
deep  grief,  some  trial  which  could  not  be  unravelled 
or  explained,  some  calamity  which  cut  off  all  the  ordi- 
nary means  of  consolation. 

The  Psalmist  cannot  sleep  for  the  visions  of  distress 

i  PSALM  LXXVII. 
I. 

"  I  will  cry  unto  God  with  my  voice, 

even  unto  God  will  I  cry,  and  He  shall  hearken  unto  me." 
In  the  time  of  my  trouble  I  sought  the  Lord, 

I  stretched  out  my  hand  and  ceased  not  in  the  night  season, 
my  soul  refused  comfort: 
"  when  I  think  upon  God  I  am  in  heaviness, 
I  muse  in  mine  heart  and  my  spirit  waxeth  faint  1 " 

Thou  didst  hold  fast  mine  eyelids, 

I  was  troubled  and  spake  nothing, 
I  considered  the  days  of  old, 

and  the  years  that  are  past: 
"  let  me  call  to  remembrance  my  song  in  the  night, 

and  commune  with  mine  heart!  "  — 
and  my  spirit  inquired  thus  within  itself :  — 


400 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


that  haunt  him  —  "  Thou  hast  held  mine  eyes  waking." 
He  cannot  find  words  to  express  his  anxiety  —  "I  am 
so  troubled  that  I  cannot  speak."  In  the  long  restless 
night  "  he  stretches  out  his  hand,  and  cries  in  vain  for 
help."  Like  Jacob,  when  they  brought  to  him  his 
son's  coat  rent  and  stained  with  blood,  "  he  refused " 
(the  same  words  are  used)  "he  refused  to  be  com- 
forted." 

It  almost  seems  as  if  there  were  something  hard  and 

"  Will  the  Lord  absent  Himself  forever, 

and  will  Ho  be  no  more  entreated? 
is  His  mercy  clean  gone  forever, 

and  His  promise  come  utterly  to  an  end  for  evermore  ? 
hath  God  forgotten  to  be  gracious, 

will  He  shut  up  His  lovingkindness  in  displeasure  ?  " 

Then  said  I:  —  "  this  is  my  affliction, 

even  during  the  years  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  Highest 
I  will  think  of  the  works  of  Jehovah, 

yea,  I  will  call  to  mind  Thy  wonders  of  old  time, 
I  will  sing  also  of  all  Thy  works, 

and  my  talking  shall  be  of  Thy  doings." 

(L 

Thy  way,  O  God,  is  holy; 

who  is  so  great  a  god  as  our  God  ? 
Thou  art  the  God  that  doeth  wonders, 

and  hast  declared  Thy  power  among  the  nations; 
Thou  didst  mightily  deliver  Thy  people, 

even  the  sons  of  Jacob  and  Joseph. 

The  waters  saw  Thee,  O  God,  the  waters  saw  Thee  and  were  afraid; 

the  depths  also  were  troubled; 
the  clouds  poured  out  water,  the  air  thundered, 

and  Thine  arrows  went  abroad; 
the  voice  of  Thy  thunder  was  heard  in  the  whirlwind,  lightnings 
shone  upon  the  world; 

the  earth  was  moved  and  shook  withal. 

Thy  way  was  in  the  sea, 

and  Thy  paths  in  the  great  waters, 
and  Thy  footsteps  were  not  known,  — 
Thou  leddest  Thy  people  like  sheep 
by  the  hand  of  Moses  and  Aaron. 

The  Psalms,  chronologically  arranged,  by  Four  Friends. 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


401 


cruel  in  the  fate  that  has  overtaken  him  —  an  iron  law 
which  has  crushed  him,  a  relentless  Nemesis  that  has 
struck  him  down  ;  —  "  Will  the  Lord  absent  Himself 
forever,  and  will  He  be  no  more  entreated?  Is  His 
mercy  clean  gone  forever,  and  hath  His  promise  come 
utterly  to  an  end  for  evermore  ?  Hath  God  forgotten 
to  be  gracious,  and  will  He  shut  up  His  lovingkindness 
in  displeasure  ?  " 

Such  despairing,  overwhelming  thoughts  have,  no 
doubt,  in  every  age  and  in  every  country,  fallen  upon 
the  heart  of  many  a  son  and  daughter  of  man.  Let  us 
see  to  what  quarters  the  Psalmist  turns  for  consolation. 
It  is,  perhaps,  somewhat  unexpected,  yet  not  on  that 
account  the  less  capable  of  being  used  by  us.  He  goes 
out  of  himself  altogether ;  he  goes  out  of  his  own  time 
and  circumstances ;  he  looks  upon  himself  as  part  of  a 
vaster,  deeper  system.  "  I  have  considered  the  days  of 
old  —  the  years  that  are  past  —  the  years  of  the  right 
hand  of  the  Most  Highest.  I  call  to  mind  His  wonders 
of  old  time.  I  meditate  on  all  His  works,  and  commune 
with  myself  on  His  doings."  He  goes  back  to  the 
earlier  history  of  his  race.  He  draws  his  comfort,  not 
from  the  thought  of  his  individual  condition,  but  from 
his  identification  with  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  a  great 
and  mighty  people.  He  summons  before  his  imagina- 
tion, by  a  vivid  effort,  the  scene  of  that  famous  night 
when  the  Jewish  nation  was  delivered  from  Egypt  in 
the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea.  He  puts  it  before  himself 
and  before  us  in  an  aspect  which,  true  as  it  doubtless 
was,  escapes  us  in  the  more  measured  and  tranquil 
march  of  the  Mosaic  narrative.  He  speaks  of  it  as 
effected  not  to  the  sound  of  trumpet  and  timbrel,  not 
in  the  clearness  and  calmness  of  daylight,  nor  in  the 
broad  and  ample  spaces  left  by  the  receding  walls  of 
water,  but  in  the  depth  of  midnight,  amidst  the  roar 


402 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


of  the  hurricane  which  caused  the  sea  to  go  back,  with 
the  army  pressing  close  behind,  and  the  driving  spray 
on  either  side,  amidst  a  gloom  lit  up  only  by  the  glare 
of  the  lurid  lightning,  as  the  Lord  looked  out  from  the 
thick  darkness  of  the  cloud,  along  a  nvvsterious  and 
unknown  pathway  over  which  the  returning  waves 
relentlessly  broke,  and  which  no  after  age  has  been  able 
to  discover  with  certainty.  "  The  waters  saw  Thee,  O 
God,  the  waters  saw  Thee  and  were  troubled ;  yea,  the 
depths  also  were  troubled  and  shuddered.  The  clouds 
also  poured  out  water:  the  skies  thundered  :  Thy  light- 
ning-arrows went  abroad :  the  voice  of  Thy  thunders 
rolled  along  in  the  whirlwind :  the  lightnings  glared 
upon  the  earth :  the  earth  trembled  and  shook.  Thy 
way  was  in  the  sea,  and  Thy  paths  in  the  great  waters,  and 
Thy  footsteps  were  not  known"  Such  was  the  surprise, 
such  the  mystery,  such  the  terror,  such  the  uncertainty  ; 
and  yet  in  the  midst  of  all  this,  a  solemn  deliverance  was 
wrought.  In  one  brief  abrupt  conclusive  sentence,  the 
Psalmist  sums  it  up,  as  sufficient  for  them,  as  suffi- 
cient for  himself.  Through  this  dark  and  terrible  night, 
through  that  deep  and  awful  baptism,  through  that  long 
and  perilous  way,  "  Thou  leddest  Thy  people  like  sheep 
by  the  hand  of  Moses  and  Aaron."  The  watchful  Shep- 
herd was  there,  through  unknown  ways,  guiding  them, 
by  the  hand  of  the  two  faithful  brothers,  leading  them, 
as  a  later  prophet1  expresses  it,  "through  the  deep,  as 
a  horse  in  the  wilderness,  that  they  should  not  stumble  ; 
as  a  beast  goeth  down  into  the  valley,  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  caused  him  to  rest :  so  didst  Thou  lead  Thy 
people,  to  make  Tlryself  a  glorious  name." 

This  peculiar  source  of  the  consolation  of  the  Psalmist 
is  indeed  applicable  to  many  earthly  griefs;  of  some 
griefs  it  is  almost  the  only  thing  to  be  said.  There 

i  Isa.  lxiii.  13, 14. 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


403 


may  be  calamities  so  strange,  so  bewildering,  so  entan- 
gled with  the  mistakes  of  men,  and  the  chances  of  acci- 
dent, that  they  seem  to  send  us  back  at  once  for  our 
only  comfort  to  the  .wide  S3*stem  of  the  universe  of 
which  they  are  part,  and  of  which  God  is  the  centre. 

There  is  a  striking  passage  in  which  a  great  philoso- 
pher, the  famous  Bishop  Berkeley,  describes  the  thought 
which  occurred  to  him  of  the  inscrutable  schemes  of 
Providence,  as  he  saw  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral  a  fly 
moving  on  one  of  the  pillars.  "  It  requires,"  he  says, 
"  some  comprehension  in  the  e}"e  of  an  intelligent  spec- 
tator to  take  in  at  one  view  the  various  parts  of  the 
building,  in  order  to  observe  their  symmetry  and  de- 
sign. But  to  the  fly,  whose  prospect  was  confined  to 
a  little  part  of  one  of  the  stones  of  a  single  pillar,  the 
joint  beauty  of  the  whole  or  the  distinct  use  of  its  parts 
were  inconspicuous.  To  that  limited  view,  the  small 
irregularities  on  the  surface  of  the  hewn  stone  seemed 
to  be  so  many  deformed  rocks  and  precipices."  That 
fly  on  the  pillar,  whether  of  that  Cathedral  of  which 
the  philosopher  spnke  or  of  this  Abbey  in  which  we  are 
assembled,  is  the  likeness  of  each  human  being  as  he 
creeps  along  the  vast  pillars  which  support  the  universe. 
The  sorrow  which  appears  to  us  nothing  but  a  yawning 
chasm  or  hideous  precipice  may  turn  out  to  be  but  the 
ioining  or  cement  which  binds  together  the  fragments 
of  our  existence  into  a  solid  whole.  That  dark  and 
crooked  path  in  which  we  have  to  grope  our  way  in 
doubt  and  fear,  may  be  but  the  curve  which,  in  the  full 
daylight  of  a  brighter  world,  will  appear  to  be  the  ne- 
cessary finish  of  some  choice  ornament,  the  inevitable 
span  of  some  majestic  arch. 

Again,  there  are  calamities  where,  as  in  the  case  of 
the  Psalmist,  we  derive  a  certain  comfort,  not  to  be 
despised  (for  it  comes  from  Him  who  has  made  us), 


404 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


from  feeling  that  not  only  the  events  of  the  world,  but 
ourselves,  in  our  own  individual  being  and  circles,  are, 
in  a  still  closer  sense,  parts  of  a  larger  whole.  It  may 
be  that  we  are  enabled  to  feel  the  consolation  of  being 
one  of  a  wide  family  or  race,  which  is  bowed  down  with 
us  in  our  sorrows,  which  makes  our  sorrows  its  own,  as 
we  make  theirs  ours.  It  may  be,  that  we  have  a  grief 
which  by  its  very  suddenness  and  severity  strikes  the 
hard  cold  heart  of  the  outer  world  and  neighborhood, 
and  brings  out  from  their  unknown  depths  those  springs 
of  natural  affection  which  it  is  the  very  object,  if  one 
may  say  so,  of  such  startling,  inexplicable  dispensations 
to  evoke  and  make  manifest.  It  may  even  be  that  our 
grief  is  one  in  which  a  whole  nation  joins ;  in  which  the 
hearts  of  a  mighty  people  are  moved  with  us,  "  as  the 
trees  of  the  forest  are  moved  with  the  wind ;  "  in  which 
the  whole  community  suddenly  finds  itself,  under  the 
inspiration  of  deep  and  strong  emotion,  one  heart  and 
one  soul,  drawn  together  as  one  family,  mourning  for 
its  children,  as  "Rachel"  on  her  rocky  hill  was  "weep- 
ing for  her  children,  and  refused  to  be  comforted  be- 
cause they  were  not."  Then  it  is  that  the  fountains  of 
the  great  deep  of  the  human  heart  are  broken  up,  and 
hundreds  and  thousands  may  feel  together,  and,  by  the 
mysterious  sympathy  of  a  common  grief,  comfort  those 
whom  they  have  never  seen ;  and  the  iron  hand  of  sor- 
row holds  the  golden  key  by  which  the  secret  affinities 
and  hidden  charities  of  mankind  are  unlocked  and 
poured  forth. 

It  is  from  the  consciousness  that  such  an  event  has 
occurred  in  our  history  within  the  last  few  weeks,  and 
that  on  this  day  and  to-morrow  it  will  be  present,  in  its 
most  affecting  form,  to  hundreds  of  our  countrymen, 
that  I  have  ventured,  in  this  the  centre  of  English  life, 
to  touch  on  a  chord,  else  perhaps  too  private  and  too 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


405 


sacred  to  be  stirred,  and  to  give  to  the  services  of  this 
day  a  funereal  character  which  else  they  could  hardly 
have  worn. 

On  this  day  have  been  deposited,  in  their  respective 
homes,  the  loved  remains  of  two  of  our  unfortunate 
countrymen,  whose  untimely  and  tragic  fate  in  Greece 
has  roused  the  pity,  the  indignation,  and  the  sympathy 
of  Europe.  One,  the  third,  rests  still  in  that  fated  land. 
The  fourth  victim  reposes  in  his  own  not  less  famous 
country  beside  the  Arno. 

This  is  not  the  place  to  dwell  on  any  of  the  circum- 
stances of  that  dreadful  week.  Others,  doubtless,  will 
draw  the  just  conclusion  —  calmly,  wisely,  faithfully  — 
which,  perchance,  even  out  of  this  frightful  calamity, 
will  bring  good  to  the  world.  On  this  day,  and  in  this 
place,  we  are  not  on  the  seat  of  judgment.  We  are 
rather  at  the  grave  and  gate  of  death,  which  is  the  gate 
of  Heaven.  Let  us,  for  a  few  moments,  for  ourselves, 
and  for  those  here  or  far  away,  whose  mourning  we 
have  made  our  own,  draw  from  this  event  the  lessons 
which  the  Psalmist's  words  suggest. 

Surely  to  us,  as  to  him,  such  sorrows  as  this  bring 
the  thought  that  there  is  a  wider,  higher  world,  of  which 
this  little  round  of  life  is  but  a  part.  "  Lord,  if  Thou 
hadst  been  here  my  brother  had  not  died."  So  Martha 
and  so  Mary,  each  with  their  different  characters,  ex- 
claimed in  the  bitterness  of  grief,  at  the  thought  of  the 
unexplained  delay  which,  as  it  seemed,  had  cost  that 
precious  life.  "  If  thou  hadst  been  here,  if  this  or  that 
had  been  otherwise,  if  this  had  but  been  foreseen,  ar- 
ranged, prevented  —  all  might  yet  have  been  well." 
So,  again  and  again  we  think ;  yet  let  us  rise  into  a 
loftier  region.  It  is  our  main  comfort.  "I  am  the 
Resurrection  and  the  Life,"  was  the  answer.  Far 
above,  where  Christ  sitteth  at  the  right  hand  of  God ; 


406 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


far  above,  where  all  secondary  laws  resolve  themselves 
into  the  primary  Source  of  Being,  "  Our  Father  which 
is  in  heaven ;  "  thither  let  us  ascend.  Let  us  remember 
the  "years  of  the  right  hand  of  the  Most  Highest." 
From  how  much  evil  to  come  in  this  life,  into  what 
blessedness  in  the  Better  Land,  they  may  have  been 
taken,  how  and  why  it  was  expedient  for  them  and  for 
us  that  they  should  have  gone  away  —  we  know  not 
now,  but  we  shall  know  hereafter. 

Again,  let  us  take  comfort  in  the  thought  that  the 
very  greatness  and  suddenness  of  the  grief  which  gathers 
the  sympathy  of  so  many  round  the  hearts  of  a  few,  has 
in  itself  an  exalting,  elevating,  transfiguring  conse- 
quence. Over  those  graves  we  seem  to  see  lamenting 
the  forms  of  Two,  may  we  not  say  of  Three,  ancient 
nations.  The  stern  anger  and  bitter  grief  of  Two,  the 
yet  more  bitter  shame  of  the  Third,  will  forever  invest 
the  names  of  those  who  have  been  thus  loved  and  lost 
with  a  tragic  solemnity  which,  if  not  the  best  balm  to 
the  broken  heart,  yet  has,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  a  heal- 
ing, soothing,  invigorating  effect.  The  ghastly  visions 
of  those  nights  and  days  will  fade  away,  and  in  their 
place  will  come  the  remembrance  that  with  those  fa- 
mous "  old  poetic  mountains,"  with  those  scenes  of  sur- 
passing grandeur  which  almost  to  the  last  moment 
moved  the  admiration  and  cheered  the  spirits  of  the 
suffering  captives  themselves,  their  memories  will 
henceforth  be  indissolubly  blended ;  that  the  hills  and 
valleys,  the  very  sound  of  whose  names  now  awakens 
a  shudder,  will,  in  after  years,  come  back  to  us  again 
charged  with  a  new  and  peculiar  pathos  as  the  everlast- 
ing monuments  of  the  beloved  and  lamented  English- 
men whose  last  days  were  spent  beneath  their  graceful 
and  majestic  heights,  and  in  their  deep  romantic  dells. 
The  mountains  of  Gilboa,  the  high  places  where  the 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


407 


beauty  of  Israel  fell,  were  forever  enshrined  in  the 
chant  of  David  over  his  lost  friend.1  So  may  the  old 
immortal  names  of  Athens,  Thebes,  and  Marathon, 
bitter  as  they  now  seem,  become  at  last  even  sweet  to 
the  memory  by  association  with  those  who  there  met 
their  end  with  a  courage  unpremeditated,  unpretending, 
but  not  the  less  worthy  of  the  deeds  of  the  great  old 
days  which  once  ennobled  those  ancient  scenes. 

And  finally,  in  the  recollection  of  the  suddenness, 
the  untimeliness  of  the  stroke,  is  there  not  this  last 
thought  for  all  of  us  —  Where,  how,  when,  did  that 
stroke  find  them  ?  Where,  how,  when,  will  it  find  us  ? 
That  uncertainty  of  death  which  we  all  know,  but 
which  we  all  find  so  difficult  to  remember  —  what  is 
the  lesson  which  it  ought  to  teach  us  ?  It  is  that  old 
familiar  word  which  our  Master  taught  —  "  Watch,  for 
ye  know  not  the  hour."  Watch ;  be  watchful ;  keep 
your  conscience  clear,  your  judgment  calm,  your  pres- 
ence of  mind  steady,  your  faith  cheerful  and  strong, 
for  the  last  dread  emergency  which  will  tax  every 
faculty  whenever  it  shall  come.  It  is  only  these  sudden 
wrenches  from  the  bloom  and  fulness  of  life  that  bring 
before  us  that  truth  so  well  set  forth  by  one  who  for- 
merly occupied  this  place  2  — 

Thou  inevitable  day, 

When  a  voice  to  me  shall  say  — 

"Thou  must  rise  and  come  away; 

All  thine  other  journeys  past, 
Gird  thee,  and  make  ready  fast, 
For  thy  longest  and  thy  last "  — 

Day  deep-hidden  from  our  sight 

In  impenetrable  night, 

Who  may  guess  of  thee  aright  ? 


1  2  Sam.  i.  19,  21.       2  "  The  Day  of  Death,"  by  Archbishop  Trench. 


408 


.THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


Shall  I  lay  my  drooping  head 
On  some  loved  lap,  round  my  bed 
Prayers  be  made  and  tears  be  shed  ? 

Or  at  distance  from  mine  own, 
Name  and  kin  alike  unknown, 
Make  my  solitary  moan  ? 

Suddenly,"like  thunder  in  a  clear  sky,  in  the  midst  of 
innocent  enjoyment,  came  the  blow  which  thus  has 
ended.  We  know  the  verse  of  the  poet  which  tells  how 
"  fierce  "  is  the  "  light  that  beats  upon  a  throne,"  reveal- 
ing every  speck  and  spot  in  the  character  that,  by  its 
conspicuous  eminence,  is  thus  exposed  to  the  public 
gaze.  Something,  too,  of  that  "  fierce  light "  belongs 
to  the  sudden  test  and  trial  of  characters  involved  in 
some  great  catastrophe,  which  for  the  time  makes  even 
the  inmost  souls  and  simplest  words  of  those  concerned 
the  property,  as  it  were,  of  the  world.  Such  is  the 
disclosure  of  the  noble  bearing  of  these  our  country- 
men, in  the  days  of  their  last  trial,  in  the  touching 
letters  which  last  reached  us  from  those  distant  shores. 

Happy,  thrice  happy,  may  any  one  be,  who  can  hope 
that,  in  the  like  unexpected  call,  in  the  like  agony  of 
conflicting  fears,  he  might  show  the  same  grand  forge  t- 
fulness  of  self,  the  same  gallant  resolve,  not  once  only, 
but  twice  and  thrice  repeated,  to  save  the  lives  of  others 
by  the  sacrifice  of  his  own ;  the  same  calm  collected 
judgment  that  nothing  should  be  done  even  for  the 
preservation  of  life  that  was  not  in  itself  just  and 
reasonable ;  the  same  simple  Christian  trust  in  God's 
goodness ;  the  same  modest  yet  proud  hope,  in  the 
prospect  of  the  coming  end,  to  die  bravely  as  English- 
men should  do.  Those  affecting  lines,  that  last  and 
latest  request  for  the  sending  of  a  Bible,  for  the  prayers 
of  a  friend,  will  be  read  by  hundreds  as  though  they 
had  lost  a  brother,  will  be  cherished  by  those  who 


THE  GREEK  MASSACRE. 


409 


possess  them,  as  though  they  had  gained  a  king's 
treasure.  I 

They  have  died  as  Englishmen  and  as  Christians 
should  die ;  they  have  been  mourned  for,  as  England 
alone  can  mourn  for  her  children. 

The  mortal  tabernacles  of  those  two  blameless,  gentle 
spirits  are  now  on  the  native  soil  where  they  desired  to 
rest  —  "  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  in  their 
deaths  not  divided."  Their  souls  are  with  Him  who 
gave  them.  The  way  was  dark  and  terrible.  The  foot- 
steps of  the  merciful  God  were  hard  to  trace.  Yet 
through  the  deep  waters  He  led  them,  we  may  humbly 
hope,  to  the  haven  where  they  would  be.  "  God  be  with 
us,"  was  the  short  all-embracing  prayer  which  closes 
one  of  those  brief  heart-rending  letters,  written  but 
two  days  before  the  close.  That  prayer,  we  may  sin- 
cerely trust,  was  heard.  Yea,  though  they  walked 
through  the  valley  of  the  darkest  shadow  of  death,  we 
need  fear  no  evil  for  them,  for  He  was  with  them  —  His 
rod  and  His  staff  comforted  them,  as  they  comfort  us. 
He  led  them  to  the  still  waters." 1  All  is  over  now. 
He  led  them  to  the  long  last  home,  where  there  shall 
be  no  more  parting,  and  where  "  the  former  things  are 
passed  away."2 

l  Psalm  xxiii.  2, 4.  2  Bey.  xxi.  4. 


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"The  great  value  of  the  book  lies  not  in  prescribing  courses  of  reading,  but  in  a 
discussion  of  principles,  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  valuable  systematic  reading." 

—  Tke  Christian  Standard. 

"Young  people  who  wish  to  know  what  to  read  and  how  to  read  it.  or  how  to  pursue 
a  particular  course  of  reading,  cannot  do  better  than  begin  with  this  book,  which  is  a 
practical  guide  to  the  whole  domain  of  literature,  and  is  full  of  wise  suggestions  for  the 
improvement  of  the  mind." — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"President  Porter  himself  treats  of  all  the  leading  departments  of  literature  of  course 
with  abundant  knowledge,  and  with  what  is  of  equal  importance  to  him,  wilh  a  very 
definite  and  serious  purpose  to  be  of  service  to  inexperienced  readers.  There  is  no  better 
or  more  interesting  book  of  its  kind  DOW  within  their  reach." — Boston  Advertiser. 

'  Prcsi  Jent  Noah  Porter's  '  Books  and  Reading '  is  far  the  most  practical  and  satis- 
factory treatise  on  the  subject  that  has  been  pub'ished.  It  not  only  answers  the  qnesiions 
'  What  books  shall  I  read  V  and  '  How  shall  I  read  them? '  but  it  supplies  a  large  and 
well-arranged  catalogue  under  appropriate  heads,  sufficient  for  a  large  family  or  a  small 
public  library."— Boston  Zion's  Herald. 


*#*  For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  post-paid,  upon  receipt  of 
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CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  Publishers, 

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"A    GREAT   SOUL'S    GREAT  THOUGHTS," 


UNIFORM  EDITION 

OF  THE  SELECT  WORKS  OF 

HORACE  BUSHNELL,  D.D. 


Each   X  vol,   iSmo,   per  vol.   §1.5 O. 


COMPLETE  IN  ELEVEN  VOLUMES. 


Christian  Nurture. 
Sermons  for  the  New  Life. 
Christ  and  his  Salvation. 
Sermons  on  Living  Subjects. 
Work  and  Play. 


Vicarious  Sacrifice.    Vol.  I. 
Vicarious  Sacrifice.    Vol.  II. 
Nature  and  the  Supernatural. 

God  in  Christ. 
Building  Eras. 


Moral  Uses  of  Dark  Things. 


"The  gathered  writings  of  one  of  the  rnoct  original  and  thonghtful 
of  the  Anieri  an  divines  of  his  generation,  and  one  who  has  left  as  ui-tintt 
an  impression  of  himself  upon  (he  minds,  at  icast.  of  the  present  generation 
of  Congregational  ministeis  as  any  otlur  man  of  I. is  day.  ' — Zioti's  Herald. 

"  His  writings  have  attracted  considerable  attention  from  the  bold  and 
original  manner  in  which  lie  lias  presented  vie  ws  of  the  doct lines  uf  the 
Calvinistic  faith.    No  well-furnished  library  will  be  without  ll:cm.:' 

—Hartford  Religious  Herald. 

"There  is  a  vivacity  and  grace  about  everything  he  has  written  which 
have  secured  him  multitudes  of  readers  even  among  thoic  who  do  not,  by 
any  means,  accept  his  views." — Presbyterian  Banner. 

"  This  series  occupies  a  place  in  theological  literature  that  is  filled  by 
no  other.  Dr.  Bushnell's  highest  qualities  as  a  thinker  and  writer  arc 
nowhere  better  brought  out." — 'Plie  Advance. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  post-paid,  upon   receipt  cf 
price,  by 

CHARLES  SCRIBXER'S  SONS,  Publishers, 

743  and  745  Broadway,  New  York. 


"These  volumes  contain  the  ripe  results  of  the  studies  of  men  wba 
ars  authorities  in  theii  respective  fields." — Thb  Nation. 


%orIjs  of  JnCobprn  ]&feforg. 


Each  1  vol.  l6mo.i  with  Outline  Maps.    Price  per  volume,  In  cloth,  $l.0ft 
Each  Volume  com?lete  in  itself  and  sold  separately. 


Edited  by  EDWARD  E.  MORRIS,  MA. 


ERA  of  the  PROTESTANT  REVOLUTION.     By  F.  Seebohm,  Aut&or  d 

"Tl.e  Oxford  Reformers — Cclet,  Erasmus,  More." 

The  CRUSADES.    By  the  Rev.  G.W.  Cox,  M.A.,  Author  of  the  "History  of  Greece.' 

The  THIRTY  YEARS'  WAR,   1618— 1648.    By  Samuel  Rawson  Gardiner. 

The  HOUSES  of  LANCASTER  and  YORK;  with  the  CONQUEST  and  LOSS 
of  FRANCE.    By  James  Gaikdner,  of  the  Public  Record  Office. 

The  FRENCH  REVOLUTION  and  FIRST  EMPIRE;  an  Historical  Sketch. 
By  Wm  O'Connor  Morris,  with  an  Appendix  by  Hon.  Andrew  D.  White,  Prest  ol 
Cornell  University. 

The  AGE  OF  ELIZABETH.   By  the  R-v.  M.  Cksic.iton,  M.A. 

The  PURITAN  REVOLUTION.    By  J.  Langton  Sanford. 

The  FALL  of  the  STUARTS;  and  WESTERN  EUROPE  from  1678  to  1697 

By  tbc  Rev.  Edward  Hale,  M.A.,  Assist.  Master  at  Eton. 

The  EARL\  FLANTAGENETS  and  their  relation  to  the  HISTORY  of  EUROP- 
the  foimdaci-jn  and  growth  of  CONSTIUTIONAL  GOVERNMENT.    By  the  R 
Wm.  Stltbs,  M.A.,  etc.,  Regius  Professor  of  Modern  History  in  the  University 
Oxford. 

The  REOiNNING  of  the  MIDDLE  AGES  j  CHARLES  the  GREAT  ana 
AI.KRLD;  th- HISTORY  of  EN'JLAND  in  its  connection  with  that  of  EUROPE 
in  the  NINTH  CENTURY.  By  the  Very  Rev  R.  W.  Church,  M.A.,  Dean 
of  St.  Paul's. 

The  AGE  of  ANNE.    By  El  ward  E.  Morris,  M.A.,  Editor  of  the  Series. 

The  NORMAN  KINGS  and  the  FEUDAL  SYSTEM.  By  the  Rev  A  H 
Johnson,  M.A.  EDWARD  III.    By  the  Rev.  W.  Wakburton,  M.A.,  late  Hei 

Majesty's  Senior  Inspector  of  Sch  ools. 

FREDERICK  the  GREAT  and  tlie  SEVEN  YEARS'  WAR.    By  F.  W.  Longman,, 

of  Liable  College,  Oxlord. 

The  above    13  Volumes  in  Roxbnrg  Style.  Leather  Labels  and  Gilt  Top.  Fu 
up  in  a  handsome  Box.   Sola  only  in  Sets.   Price  per  Set,  $13.00. 


The  above  book  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  mill  be  sett,  Post  or  exprtn 
ofevr/o  /aid,  upon  receipt  of  the  price  by  the  publishers. 


CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS, 

743  and  745  Broadway,  Nbw  You 


The 

Conflict  of  Christianity 

WITH  HEATHENISM. 

By  DR.   GERHARD  UHLHORN. 

TRANSLATED  BY 

PROF.  EGBERT   C.  SMYTH   and   REV.  C.  J.  H.  ROPES. 

One  Volume,  Crown  8vo,  $2. GO. 

This  volume  describes  with  extraordinary  vividness  and  spirit  ths 
religious  and  moral  condition  of  the  Pagan  world,  the  ri=e  and  spread 
of  Christianity,  its  conflict  with  heathenism,  and  its  final  victory.  There 
is  no  work  that  portrays  the  heroic  age  of  the  ancient  church  with  equal 
spirit,  elegance,  and  incisive  power.  The  author  has  made  thorough  and 
independent  study  both  of  the  early  Christian  literature  and  also  of  the 
contemporary  tecords  cf  classic  heathenism. 


CRITUCAEj  notices. 

"  It  is  easy  to  see  why  this  volume  is  so  highly  esteemed.  It  is 
systematic,  thorough,  and  concise.  But  its  power  is  in  the  wide  mental 
vision  and  well-balanced  imagination  of  the  author,  which  enable  him  to 
reconstruct  the  scenes  of  ancient  history.  An  exceptional  clearness  and 
force  mark  his  style." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"  One  might  read  many  books  without  obtaining  more  than  a  fraction 
oC  the  profitable  information  here  conveyed  ;  and  he  might  search  a  long 
time  before  finding  one  which  would  so  thoroughly  fix  his  attention  and 
command  his  interest." — Phil.  S.  S.  Times. 

"Dr.  Uhlhorn  has  described  the  great  conflict  with  the  power  of  a 
master.  His  style  is  strong  and  attractive,  his  descriptions  vivid  and 
graphic,  his  illustrations  highly  colored,  and  his  presentation  of  the  subject 
earnest  and  effective." — Providence  'Journal. 

"  The  work  is  marked  for  its  broad  humanitarian  views,  its  learning, 
and  the  wide  discretion  in  selecting  from  the  great  field  the  points  of 
deepest  interest." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"This  is  one  of  those  clear,  strong,  thorough-going  books  which  are 
a  scholar's  delight." — Hartford  Religions  Herald. 

*#*  For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  post-paid  upon  receipt  of 
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THE  ORIGIN  OF  NATIONS 

By  Professor  GEORGE  RAWLINSON,  M.A. 


One  Volume,  12mo.    With  maps,  .      .      .  $1.00, 


The  first  part  of  this  book,  Early  Civilizations,  discusses  the  antiquity 
of  civilization  in  Egypt  and  the  other  early  nations  of  the  East.  The 
6econd  part,  Ethnic  Affinities  in  the  Ancient  World,  is  an  examination  of 
the  ethnology  of  Genesis,  showing  its  accordance  with  the  latest  results  of 
modern  ethnographical  science. 


"  An  attractive  volume,  which  is  well  worthy  of  the  careful  consideration  of  every 
reader. M — Observer. 

"A  work  of  genuine  scholarly  excellenre.  and  a  useful  offset  to  a  great  deal  of  the 
supcrfici.il current  literature  on  such  subje-ts." — Coi.gregationalist. 

"  Dr.  Rawlinson  brings  to  this  discussion  long  and  patient  research,  a  vast  knowledge 
and  intimate  acquaintance  with  what  has  been  written  on  both  sides  of  the  question." — 

Brooklyn  Union- A  rgus. 


THE  DAWN  OF  HISTORY. 

AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  PRE-HISTORIC  STUDY. 
Edited  by   C.  F.  KEARY,  M.  A., 

OF  T1IF.  DKITISII  MUSEUM. 

One  Volume,  12mo.,       -        -        -        $1.2  5. 


This  work  treats  successively  of  the  earliest  traces  cf  man  in  tho 
remains  discovered  in  caves  or  elsewhere  in  different  parts  of  Europe  ;  of 
language,  its  growth,  and  the  story  it  tells  of  the  pre-historic  users  cf  it ; 
of  the  races  of  mankind,  early  social  life,  the  religions,  mythologies,  and 
folk-tales  of  mankind,  and  of  the  history  of  writing.  A  list  of  authorities 
is  appended,  and  an  index  has  been  prepared  specially  for  this  edition. 


"The  book  may  be  heartily  recommended  as  probably  the  most  satisfactory  summary 
of  the  subject  that  there  is." — Nation. 

"  A  fascinating  manua1,  without  a  vestige  of  ihe  dullness  usually  charred  against 
Scientifij  works.  .  .  .  In  its  way,  the  work  is  a  model  of  what  a  popular  scientific 
work  should  be  :  it  is  readable,  it  is  ea-ilv  understood,  and  its  stvle  is  simple,  yet  dig* 
nihe  J,  avoiding  equally  the  affectation  of  the  nursery  and  of  the  laboratory.'1  — 

Boston  Snt.  Hie.  Gazette, 


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CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS,  Publishers, 

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The  Great  Theological  Work  of  the  Age. 


DR.  HODGE'S  THEOLOGY. 

By  CHARLES  HODGE,  D.D.,  LLD., 

of  Princeton  Theological  Seminary. 
Three  volumes  &vo.,  including  Index,  %  \  2.  CO 

la  tlese  volumes  are  comprised  the  results  of  the  life-long  labors  and  investigations  ol 
cna  cf  the  most  eminent  theologians  of  the  age.    The  work  covers  the  ground  usually  CO 
tuy.tu  by  treatises  on  Systematic  Theology,  and  adopts  the  commonly  received  divisions  ol  » 
the  subject, — THEOLOGY,  Vol.  I. ;  ANTHROPOLOGY,  Vol.  II. ;  SOTERIOLOGY 
AND  ESCHATOLUGY,  Vol.  III. 

The  INTRODUCTION  is  devoted  to  the  consideration  of  preliminary  matters,  such  as 
Method,  or  the  principles  which  should  guide  the  student  of  Theology,  and  the  different 
theories  as  to  the  source  and  standard  of  our  knowledge  of  divine  things,  Rationalism, 
Mysticism,  the  Roman  Catholic  doctrine  of  the  Rule  of  Faith,  and  the  Protestant  doctrine 
W  that  subject. 

The  department  of  THEOLOGY  proper  includes  the  origin  of  the  Idea  of  God,  tho 
Being  of  God,  the  Anti-Thcistic  systems  of  Atheism,  Polytheism,  Materialism,  and 
Pantheism  ;  the  Nature  of  God,  the  Divine  Attributes,  the  Doctrines  of  the  Trinity,  tha 
Divinity  of  Christ,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  the  Decrees  of  God,  Creation,  Piovidence,  and 
Miracles. 

The  department  of  ANTHROPOLOGY  includes  the  Nature,  Origin,  and  Antiquity  of 
Man,  his  Primitive  State  and  Probation ;  the  Fall ;  the  Effect  of  Adam's  Sin  upon  himself 
end  upon  his  Posterity ;  the  Nature  of  Sin  ;  the  Different  Philosophical  and  Theological 
Theories  on  that  subject. 

SOTERIOLOGY  includes  the  Plan  or  Purpose  of  God  in  reference  to  the  Salvation  of 
Men  :  the  Person  and  Work  of  the  Redeemer  ;  his  Offices  as  Prophet,  Priest,  and  King  ; 
the  Work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  applying  the  redemption  purchased  by  Christ ;  Common 
and  Efficacious  Grace,  Regeneration,  Faith,  Justification,  Sanctification,  the  Law  or  Ruls 
of  Life,  and  the  means  of  Grace. 

ESCHATOLOGY  includes  the  State  of  the  Soul  after  Death  ;  the  Second  Coming  ol 
Cljrist ;  the  Resurrection  of  the  Eody  ;  the  General  Judgment  and  End  of  the  World,  and 
the  Doctnn.2  concerning  Heaven  and  Hell. 

The  plan  of  the  author  is  to  state  ar.d  vindicate  the  teaching  of  the  Bible  on  these 
Sl/ious  subjects,  and  to  examine  the  antagonistic  doctrines  of  diffeient  classes  of  Theoio* 
gi&ns.    His  book,  therefore,  is  intended  to  be  both  didactic  and  elenchtic. 

The  various  topics  are  discussed  with  that  close  and  keen  analytical  and  logical  power, 
combined  with  that  simplicity,  lucidity,  and  strength  of  style  which  have  already  given  Dr. 
Hodgk  a  world-wide  reputation  as  a  controversialist  and  writer,  and  as  an  iuveitiouor  at 
Ifcc  gteat  theological  problems  of  the  day. 

Single  copies  sent  post-paid ok  receipt  of  the  price. 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S  SONS, 

743  and  745  Broadway,  New  York. 


